Irfp 


(relgjB 

MM 

HUH 


PHEMIE  FROST'S  EXPERIENCES. 


BT 

MBS.  ANN  S.   STEPHENS. 

AUTHOR  OF   "FASHION  AND  FAMINE,"  "REJECTED   WIFE,"    "OLD 
HOMESTEAD,"   ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW   YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton    &    Co.,    Publishers. 

LONDON:   S.   LOW,  SON  &  CO. 
M.DCCC.LXXIV. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

G.     W.     CARLETON    &    CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Maclauchlan, 

Stcreotypcr  and  Printer,  £6,  58  and  60  Park  Street,  New  York. 


K     J^ESLIE,     j5  s  q_.  , 
ONE  OF  THE  BEST-TRIED  AND  MOST  VALUED  FRIENDS  I  HAVE, 

THIS      VOLUME, 
THE   LIGHT  AMUSEMENT   OP  MY  LEISURE  HOURS, 


AM  S.  STEPHENS. 

HOTEL, 

NEW  YORK, 


ST.  CLOUD  HOTEL,       \ 
March,  1874.  5 


M174950 


PREFACE. 


THISTLE  down,  thistle  down,  cast  to  the  wind 
So  lightly  and  wildly,  you  scarcely  can  find 

A  glimpse  of  it  here,  or  a  gleam  of  it  there, 
As  it  trembles,  a  silvery  mist,  on  the  air. 

Like  the  wide  thorny  leaves  whence  the  mother  root  threw 
Up  its  crown  of  rich  purple,  bejewelled  with  dew, 

These  feathery  nothings,  barbed,  sparsely,  with  seeds, 
Must  struggle  for  life  with  the  brambles  and  weeds. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  — Leaving  Home • 11 

II.— Phoemie's  First  Visit 25 

III.— About  Girls 28 

IV.— More  About  Girls 33 

V._ Poor  Children 39 

VI.— He  Has  Come 4L 

VII. —The  French  Dress-maker 43 

VIII.— The  Genuine  Madame 48 

IX.— Ready  to  Land 51 

X. — Down  the  Bay 54 

XI.  —The  Grand  Duke '. 57 

XII.— Tickets  for  the  Ball CO 

XIII.  —The  Grand  Duke's  Ball 63 

XIV.  —The  Natural  History  Philanthropist 07 

XV.— Christmas  in  New  York 74 

XVI. — The  Night  Before  Christmas 78 

XVII.— Early  Service 81 

XVIII.— High  Church 84 

XIX. — Christmas  Morning 88 

XX,— About  Lions 90 

XXL— Dining  in  the  Dark 95 

XXII. —New  Year's  Day 99 

XXIII.  —The  New  Year's  Reception ' 102 

XXIV.  —  Mignon :  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera 108 

XXV.— The  Black  Crook 114 

XXVI. —Living  Apart 120 

XXVII.— More  About  Fisk 124 

XXVIII.— She  Would  Go 128 

XXIX.  —Mr.  Greeley's  Birthday  Party 132 

XXX.— Leap  Year 135 

XXXI.— A  Man  that  Wouldn't  Take  Money 140 

XXXII. —A  Democratic  Lunch 144 

XXXIII. —Dempster  Proposes  a  Trip 149 

XXXIV.— In  Washington 152 

XXXV.— Getting  Information 157 

XXXVI.— The  Liederkranz  Ball 161 

XXXVII.— How  Did  the  Papers  Know  ? 105 

XXXVIII.— Reception  of  the  Japanese 108 

XXXIX.— The  Japanese ,171 

XL.— That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party 174 

XLL— The  Dinner ,    179 

XLII.— In  the  Basement  of  the  Capitol 182 

XLIII. — Phoemie  Dines  with  a  Senator 186 

XLIV.— Marble  Halls 191 

XLV. — Randolph  Rogers'  Bronze  Doors 194 

XLVL— Was  it  a  Meeting-house  ? 197 

XLVIL— Easter..                                                                            .  201 


io  Contents. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XL VIII.— A  Church  Higher  Yet 204 

XLIX.— Easter  Sunday .• 206 

L.— That  Man  with  the  Lantern 211 

LI. — Mrs.  Grant's  Reception 215 

LII. — Representative  Women 220 

LIII.—  A  Literary  Party 223 

LIV.—  Dressing-  for  a  Party 227 

LV. — Foreign  Ministers. . .' 230 

LVL— Good  Clothes 237 

LVII.— The  Party  of  the  Season 241 

L VIII.— Down  the  Potomac 245 

LIX.— Mount  Vernon 250 

LX. — Mr.  Greeley's  Nomination 253 

LXL— Women  and  Things 258 

LXII.— A  Trip  to  Annapolis 2G3 

LXIIL— Among  the  Cadets 207 

LXIV.— American  Authors 271 

LXV.—  The  Statue  of  Shakespeare 275 

LXVI.— Racing  Dresses 279 

LXVIL—  The  First  Horse-race 282 

LXVIIL— Off  Again 288 

LXIX.— The  Steeple-chase 293 

LXX.— Preparing  for  Sea 29G 

LXXI.— Yacht-racing 300 

LXXIL—  Music  that  is  Music 304 

LXXIIL—  Hubbishness 306 

LXXI V.— Thunders  of  Music 308 

LXXV.— Saratoga  Trunks 312 

LXXVL— The  Dolly  Varden 314 

LXXVIL— Starting  for  Long  Branch 320 

LXXVIIL  —  That  Hair-trunk 323 

LXXIX.— At  the  Branch 326 

LXXX.— The  Race-course 328 

LXXXI.— Climbing  Sea  Cliff 332 

LXXXII.— Fighting  for  the  Body 335 

LXXXIII. — Lions  and  Lambs 3o7 

LXXXI V.— Experiences ^ 240 

LXXXV.— The  Second  Day 342 

LXXXVI.— The  Blacksmith's  Conversion 347 

LXXXVIL  —  That  Ovation  of  Fire 352 

LXXXVIII.— Let  Him  Go 359 

LXXXIX—  Done  Up  in  a  Hurry 3(52 

XC.— The  Yellow  Flag 307 

XCI.— The  Man  that  Saved  Me 370 

XCII.— Pleasure  Bay 375 

XCIII.— Netting  Crabs 379 

XCIV.— Extra  Politeness 384 

XCV.— The  Clam-bake 387 

XCVI.— That  Clam-bake 390 

XCVIL—  One  Hour  of  Heaven - 392 

XCVIII.—  C.  O.  D.: 309 

XCIX.— Taken  In..,                                                                 .  404 


PH(EMIE   FROST'S   EXPERIENCES. 


i. 

LEAVING   HOME. 

HAVE  made  up  my  mind.  Having  put  my  hand  to 
the  plough,  it  isn't  in  me  to  back  out  of  a  duty  when 
duty  and  one's  own  wishes  sail  amicably  in  the  same 
canoe.  I  am  going  to  give  myself  up  to  the  good  of  mankind 
and  the  dissemination  of  great  moral  ideas. 

Selected  by  the  Society  of  Infinite  Progress  as  its  travelling 
missionary,  with  power  to  spread  the  most  transcendental  of 
New  England  ideas  throughout  the  world,  I  shall  take. up  my 
cross  and  go  forth. 

The  evening  after  the  Society  had  crowned  me  with  this 
honor,  I  asked  Aunt  Kesiah  and  Uncle  Ben  Frost,  who  have 
been  working  the  farm  on  shares  ever  since  my  father  died,  if 
they  could  not  make  out  to  do  without  me  for  some  months,  or 
weeks,  or  years,  just  as  duty  or  my  own  feelings  took  a  notion  to 
stay. 

Aunt  Kesiah  sat  right  down  in  the  rocking-chair,  and  looked 
straight  in  my  face  for  a  whole  minute  without  speaking. 

"  What,"  says  she  at  last,  "  going  away  from  home  at  your 
age — a  female  woman  all  alone  in  the  world !  You  and  the 
Society  just  take  my  breath  away,  Phcemie.  Where  on  arth  are 
you  a  going  to  ?  " 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "it  seems  to  be  my  duty  to  seek  a  field  where 
there  is  the  most  sin  and  iniquity  a  going  on,  where  dishonesty 
rides  rampagnatious  as  a  roaring  lion,  and  fashion  flaunts  herself 


-12  Leaving  Home. 

like  a  peacock  with  moons  in  every  tail  feather.     First  of  all, 
the  field  of  my  duty  lies  in  York,  that  Babylon  of  cities." 

"  But  whose  a  going  to  bear  the  expenses  ?  "  says  Uncle  Ben, 
who  always  was  'cute  as  a  miser  about  money  matters.  "  Duty 
is  sumtimes  rayther  expensive." 

"  The  Society,"  answers  I.  "  The  members  are  a  picking  up 
produce  now,  I  shan't  go  empty-handed  on  my  mission.  All 
the  members  are  wide  awake  about  that.  Crops  have  been 
first-rate." 

"-Yes,"  says  Uncle  Ben,  "  I  give  in  there." 

"  And  hens  never  laid  better  since  chickens  were  hatched," 
continued  I. 

"  Jes'  so,"  says  Aunt  Kesiah,  "  if  the  pesky  creturs  wouldn't 
run  off  and  hide  their  nests." 

"  Hams  are  plenty,  smoked  beef  ditto,  to  say  nothing  of 
dried  apples.  I  mean  to  sell  everything  at  a  profit  and  settle 
accounts  with  the  Society." 

"  I  reckon  you'll  get  cut  short ;  up  to  this  time  there  has 
bin  lots  of  talking  in  that  Society.  When  it  comes  to  giving 
— but  never  mind — we  shall  see  !  " 

"  There,  there,  Benjamin,  don't  you  go  to  pouring  cold  water 
on  our  Phcemie's  missionary  work.  She  is  sot  on  going,  so  let 
her  go." 

"  Is  she  sot  ?  "  says  Uncle  Ben,  looking  at  me  sort  of  anx 
ious. 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  my  face  is  turned  to  the  mark  of  the  prize 
of  the  high  calling." 

"  Jes'  so,"  says  Uncle  Ben,  "  got  your  hand  on  the  prow  with 
a  hard  grip  ?  That  being  the  fact,  old  woman,  the  best  thing 
is  for  you  to  lend-  a  helping  hand  and  send  her  off  comfortably. 
She  can  try  anyhow,  though  I  have  a  notion  that  the  world 
has  got  to  be  so  wicked  since  the  war,  that  one  female  woman — " 

"  Girl !  "  says  I. 

"  Well,  girl — may  fall  short  of  regenerating  the  hull  of  it  all 
to  once.  Still  there  is  no  knowing  what  any  one  can  do  till 
they  try." 


Leaving  Home.  13 

"  When  do  you  lay  out  to  start  ?  "  says  Aunt  Kesiah,  all  in 
a  nutter. 

"  Right  off,"  says  I. 

"  By  land  or  water  ?  " 

"  Both,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  dear !  what  if  you  should  get  shipwrecked,  and  all  the 
produce  and  garden  sass  with  you  !  "  says  she. 

"  There  now,  don't  skeer  the  girl,  Kesiah,"  says  Uncle  Ben. 
"  The  Sound  don't  rage  to  any  great  extent,  neither  are  the 
engines  alles  a  busting  as  a  general  thing." 

"  Well,  well,  if  she's  sot  on  going,  I'll  do  my  best  to  help 
get  her  off,"  says  Aunt  Kesiah,  and  she  goes  right  to  putting 
lard  in  a  kettle,  and  while  it  was. a  heating,  rolled  out  a  lot  of 
doughnuts,  which  article  of  food  she  excels  in.  For  two  whole 
days  that  good  soul  devoted  herself  to  making  crullers,  dough 
nuts,  and  turnover  pies,  as  if  she  thought  I  should  not  find  any 
thing  to  eat  till  I  got  home  again. 

Well,  by  and  by  the  day  came  for  me  to  start.  That  tea-party 
and  a  prayer-meeting  at  Deacon  Pettibone's  house  was  a  season 
that  none  of  us  will  ever  forget.  Mrs.  Pettibone,  our  president, 
is  a  wonderfully  gifted  woman,  and  that  night  she  seized  right 
hold  of  the  horns  of  the  altar  and  fairly  beat  herself.  Oh,  sis 
ters,  it  was  a  touching  time  when  I  drove  with  Uncle  Ben 
through  Sprucehill  a  bowing  from  one  window  to  another,  for 
every  member  of  the  Society  seemed  to  rush  heart  and  soul  to 
the  windows ;  and  when  I  found  your  executive  committee  on 
that  platform,  the  tears  that  had  been  standing  in  my  eyes  just 
burst  out  and  overflowed  my  soul. 

There  I  sat  on  my  trunk  in  your  midst,  with  a  bandbox  at 
my  feet,  and  a  new  satchel,  large,  plump,  and  shiny,  in  my  hand, 
ready  to  start,  but  feeling  the  responsibility  of  my  trust,  and 
the  danger  of  a  young  girl  going  forth  into  the  world  all  alone. 
No  wonder  some  of  you  thought  I  should  give  up  and  take  my 
hand  from  the  plough.  It  was  a  trying  situation.  I  felt  it ;  I 
suffered ;  but,  knowing  that  the  eyes  of  all  Sprucehill  were 
upon  me,  I  was  firm.  Yes,  even  when  Aunt  Kesiah  placed 


14  Leaving  Home, 

that  satchel  in  my  lap,  and  told  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes  to 
take  special  care  of  it,  for  she  did  not  know  what  I  should  do 
if  it  got  lost. 

She  said  this  so  loud,  and  with  such  deep  sobs,  that  a  tall 
gentleman  who  stood  on  the  platform  with  a  satchel  in  his 
hand,  seemed  to  be  greatly  affected  by  the  touching  scene,  and 
kept  close  to  us  till  the  train  come  lumbering  and  snorting  in. 

Then,  sisters,  you  remember  how  we  fell  upon  each  other's 
neck,  and  wept  and  kissed  each  other,  then  tore  apart.  How  I 
went  weeping  into  the  cars  leaving  the  satchel  behind,  and  how 
Uncle  Ben  pushed  it  through  the  window,  telling  me  to  be  awful 
careful  of  its  precious  contents  so  loud  that  everybody  heard, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  wondered  how  many  thousand  dollars  it 
held.  Well,  the  contents  of  that  bag  were  miscellaneously  pre 
cious.  I  had  seen  Aunt  Kesiah  pack  it,  with  a  feeling  that 
made  me  homesick  before  I  left  the  old  farm.  Doughnuts, 
crullers,  turn-over  pies,  with  luscious  peach  juice  breaking 
through  the  curves.  A  great  hunk  of  maple  sugar,  another  of 
dried  beef,  some  cheese,  and  a  pint  bottle  of  cider.  It  nearly 
broke  Aunt  Kesiah's  heart  because  she  couldn't  top  things  off 
with  a  pot  of  preserves,  but  I  wasn't  sorry,  thinking  they  might 
be  unhandy  to  carry. 

Well,  I  took  the  satchel,  set  it  upon  my  lap,  and  looked  out 
of  the  window  at  you  all,  as  well  as  I  could  for  crying,  till  the 
train  gave  a  jerk  that  made  my  teeth  rattle,  and  moved  on. 

When  I  lost  sight  of  you,  sisters,  I  felt  awfully  lonesome  and 
almost  'fraid  to  trust  myself  among  so  many  masculine  men  as 
filled  the  v  cars.  Being  an  unprotected  female,  with  a  certain 
amount  of  promiscuous  property  in  my  charge,  I  felt  a  com 
mercial  and  moral  responsibility  that  weighed  down  my  shoul 
ders  till  I  felt  like  a  camel  with  an  enormous  load  to  carry. 

Had  I  been  travelling  with  nothing  but  my  own  self  to  take 
care  of,  the  sense  of  responsibility  would  have  been  less  ;  but  I 
could  not  help  thinking  that  the  dignity  of  our  Society  was  in 
my  keeping,  and  the  anxieties  of  all  Sprucehill  followed  me 
swifter  than  the  cars  could  run  or  the  snorting  engine  draw. 


Leaving  Home.  15 

So  I  pulled  my  dust-colored  veil  tight  over  my  face,  and,  with 
my  feet  planted  firm  011  the  floor,  sat  bolt-upright,  holding 
the  satchel  on  my  lap  with  both  bands,  kind  of  shivering  for 
fear  some  man  might  attempt  to  sit  down  by  me.  I  couldn't 
think  of  this  without  feeling  as  if  I  should  sink  right  through 
the  red  velvet  cushions  that  I  sat  on. 

I  was  so  anxious  that  my  heart  jumped  right  into  my  mouth 
when  that  man  I  had  seen  on  the  platform  come  my  way. 
While  he  was  looking  around,  the  breath  stood  still  on  my  lips, 
and  I  gave  my  satchel  a  grip  which  would  have  hurt  it  if  such 
things  have  any  feeling.  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  austerity  of 
my  countenance  scared  all  the  rest  of  them  off,  for  most  of  'em 
passed  on,  after  giving  me  a  regretful  glance  ;  but  when  he  come 
in  swinging  his  new  satchel,  so  independent,  I  moved  a  little ; 
for  I  knew  he  was  a  gentleman  by  the  way  he  wore  his  hat — 
clear  back  on  his  head — by  the  great  seal,  with  a  red  stone  in 
it,  on  his  finger,  and  by  the  heavy  gold  chain  swinging  across 
his  breast. 

When  I  saw  this  man's  eyes  fixed  on  my  seat  so  beseeching, 
I  kind  of  moved  a  little  more  and  then  let  my  eyes  droop 
downward,  determined  not  to  help  his  presuuiptuous  design  to 
sit  by  me  a  single  bit. 

"  Thank  you,"  says  he,  sitting  down  close  to  me,  and  chuck 
ing  his  satchel  under  the  seat.  "  If  there  is  a  superior  person 
in  the  car,  I'm  certain  to  have  the  luck  and  the  honor  to  sit  be 
side  her.  Some  people  prefer  to  look  out  of  the  window,  but 
I  would  rather  gaze  on  a  sweet,  pretty  face,  by  a  long  shot — 
especially  if  it  does  not  belong  to  a  girl  with  airs." 

I  felt  myself  blushing  all  over  at  this  delicate  compliment, 
and  observed, 'with  becoming  diffidence  and  great  originality, 
that  "  beauty  was  only  skin-deep  at  the  best,  and  not  by  any 
manner  of  means  to  be  compared  with  Christian  piety  and  high 
intellect." 

The  man — he  was  a  stalwart,  handsome  man  ;  not  pursey 
like  Deacon  Pettibone,  nor  slim  to  bean-poleishness  like  the  cir 
cuit  preachers  that  live  about,  and  only  pick  up  a  little  round- 


]6  Leaving  Home. 

ness  at  camp -meetings ;  bnt  tall,  and  what  young  ladies  call 
imposing.  Well,  the  man  gave  me  another  long  look  at  this, 
and  says  he : 

61  But  when  all  these  things  jibe  in  together  so  beautifully, 
who  is  to  say  which  it  is  that  captivates  a  man's  fancy  ?  Not 
I.  It  is  my  weakness  to  take  lovely  woman  into  the  core  of 
my  heart  as  a  whole ;  but,  if  there  is  one  quality  that  I  prize 
more  than  another,  it  is  piety." 

I  blushed  with  thrilling  consciousness  of  the  grace  that  has 
been  in  me  so  long  that  it  has  become  a  part  of  my  being  ;  but 
his  praise  did  not  satisfy  me.  One  hates  to  take  sweet  things 
in  driblets,  with  a  spoon,  when  the  soup-ladle  is  handy. 

"  Piety  is  a  thing  to  be  had  for  praying,  fasting,  and 
unlimited  devotion.  Anybody  can  have  it  Avho  grapples  the 
horn  of  the  altar  in  deadly  earnest.  In  short,  if  there  is 
anything  that  everybody  on  earth  has  a  right  to,  it's  religion. 
The  only  aristocracy  there  is  about  it,  comes  when  one  reaches 
the  high  point  of  perfect  sanctification — a  state  that  some  peo 
ple  do  reach,  though  it  is  sometimes  so  difficult  to  point  out  the 
particular  person." 

.  "  Ah,  indeed !  "  said  he.  "  But  I  have  penetration,  madam, 
great  penetration.  Do  not  torture  your  sensitive  modesty  by 
an  attempt  to  conceal  extraordinary  perfection  from  one  who 
can  so  fully  appreciate  it,  and  who  grieves  to  say  how  uncom 
mon  it  is." 

I  said  nothing,  bnt  dropped  my  eyes,  and  sat  up  straighter 
than  ever. 

"  Permit  me,"  says  my  polite  fellow-traveller,  gently  laying 
his  hand  on  my  satchel ;  "  this  is  too  heavy  for  the  lap  of  a 
delicate  female.  Supposing  we  place  it  sideTby  side  with  mine 
under  tl^e  seat  ?  " 

1  held  011  to  the  satchel,  afraid  that  he  might  mash  one  of  the 
turn-over  pies. 

"  Do  allow'me.  I  really  tremble  to  see  a  person  so  formed 
by  nature  borne  down  by  such  a  weight,"  says  my  fellow- 
traveller,  with  great  impressiveness.  "  It  isn't  to  be  thought  of." 


Leaving  Home.  17 

"  But — but  I  don't  feel  the  weight  so  very  much,"  says  I, 
loosening  my  grip  a  trifle. 

u  But,  my  dear  madam,  remember  that  the  life  and  health  of 
a  person  like  you  is  of  consequence  to  the  whole  universe. 
Remember  the  siotic  nerve." 

"  The  what  nerve  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Siotic,1'  says  he.  "  That  nerve  which  is  so  tender  in  very 
pious  people.  They  say  that  the  Pope  has  been  suffering 
agonies  with  it." 

"  Dear  me,"  says  I,  "  is  it  anything  mixed  up  with  a  heart 
disease?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  it  is  a  strain  upon  the  great  sensitive  nerve 
that  runs  like  a  whip-cord  from  I  don't  know  where  down  the 
back  of  the  le — " 

Oh !  sisters,  he  almost  had  that  terrible  word  out,  but  I  gave 
such  a  start  and  blushed  so  that  he  turned  it  right  round  on 
his  tongue,  and  says  he  with  great  emphasis,  "  limb." 

"  Oh !  "  says  I,  with  a  gasp  of  relief,  "  now  you  speak  so 
that  a  modest  New  England  woman  can  understand.  So  there 
is  a  nerve  !  " 

"  Peculiarly  susceptible  in  religious  and  intellectual  persons," 
says  he. 

"  Running  down  the  limb  !  "  says  I. 

"  Both  limbs,"  says  he,  "  which  a  weight  carried  on  the  lap 
is  sure  to  exasperate  if  it  does  not  end  in  kinking  up  the  siotic 
and  crippling  the  1 — limbs." 

"  Are  you  a  doctor  ?  "  says  I. 

He  smiled. 

"  A  sort  of  one,"  says  he,  and,  without  more  words,  he  took 
my  satchel  and  sat  it  down  by  his,  under  the  seat,  as  sociable 
as  could  be. 

After  that,  he  took  hold  of  my  hand,  as  if  he  was  a-going  to 
feel  my  pulse,  looking  sweetly  anxious. 

"  Is  there  a  siotic  there  ?  "  says  I. 

He  gave  my  hand  a  hard  squeeze,  and  seemed  to  ruminate. 

"  It  takes  a  little  time  to  discover,"  says  he,  half  closing  his 


1 8  Leaving  Home. 

eyes.  "  Be  tranquil ;  there  is  no  danger  now.  The  arm  has 
been  in  one  position  rather  too  long ;  change -was  necessar/. 
But  this  is  a  change." 

Then  he  gave  my  hand  another  squeeze,  and,  leaning  back, 
shut  his  eyes  entirely. 

That  minute  the  engine  gave  out  a  sharp  yell  that  nearly 
scared  me  to  death.  The  cars  heaved  a  jerk  and  a  jolt,  the 
man  on  the  platform  sung  out  something,  and  before  I  could 
say  Jack  Robinson,  my  fellow-passenger  made  a  dive  under  the 
seat,  dragged  out  his  satchel,  and  made  for  the  door,  bowing  as 
he  went,  and  hustling  out  something  about  its  being  his  station. 

While  I  was  a-staring  after  him  with  all  the  eyes  in  my  head, 
the  cars  gave  another  jerk,  and,  splash -bang,  away  we  went,  so 
fast  that  the  man  scooting  along  that  platform,  waving  his  hand 
backwards,  seemed  to  be  swimming  in  fog. 

Sisters,  I  must  say  that  a  feeling  of  lonesomeness  fell  upon 
me  after  he  went ;  his  conversation  had  been  so  scientific  and 
interesting  that  I  felt  the  loss. 

Besides  that,  I  felt  a  little  hungry,  and  thought  I'd  take  a 
bite  of  something  to  eat.  So  I  stooped  down,  lifted  the  satchel 
to  my  lap,  and  tried  to  open  it. 

The  lock,  it  seemed  to  me,  had  got  a  stubborn  twist,  and 
wouldn't  open ;  just  then  the  conductor  came  along,  and  I  gave 
him  a  pitiful  look. 

"  Please,  sir,  help  me  a  little,"  says  I ;  "it  won't  open  all  I 
can  do." 

The  conductor  came  forward,  snatched  hold  of  the  satchel, 
and  wrenched  it  open. 

"  Thank  you,"  says  I,  lifting  my  eyes  to  his  gaze,  and  diving 
my  hand  down  into  the  satchel,  for  I  meant  to  give  him  a 
doughnut  for  his  politeness  ;  but  instead  of  that  luscious  cake, 
my  hands  sank  into  a  half  peck  of  sawdust  packed  close  in 
the  satchel  my  fellow-passenger  had  left  behind. 

"  Look  there,"  says  I ;  "  isn't  it  dreadful,  and  I  an  unpro 
tected  female  ?  " 

"  Was  your  money  in  the  bag  ?  "  asks  the  conductor. 


Leaving  Home.  19 

"  No,"  says  I,  putting  one  hand  up  to  my  bosom,  to  make 
sure  it  was  safe.  "  I  always  keep  my  money  where — no  mat 
ter,  the — the  handsome  upstart  will  have  a  splendid  feast  of 
turnovers  and  doughnuts,  besides  a  lively  drink  of  cider ;  but 
as  for  money,  that  is  in  a  safe  place." 
'  "  And  your  ticket  ?  " 

"  That,"  says  I,  "not  being  private  property,  like  money,  is 
kept  handier." 

With  that,  I  took  the  ticket  from  inside  of  my  glove  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

"  All  right,"  says  he,  "the  scamp  hasn't  made  so  much  of  a 
haul  as  he  expected." 

"  But  he'll  have  a  sumptuous  meal,"  says  I,  a  little  down  in 
the  mouth  ;  for  I  was  growing  hungry,  and  not  a  bite  left. 
Just  then  a  boy  came  into  the  cars  with  a  basketful  of  popped 
corn  on  his  arm.  It  looked  awfully  tempting,  for  every  kernel 
was  turned  wrong  side  out,  white  as  snow.  I  bought  a  popped 
corn  of  the  boy,  and  pacified  myself  with  that  till  the  cars 
stopped  ten  minutes,  where  there  was  a  mean  chance  to  get 
something  more  substantial  to  eat.  I  went  in  with  the  crowd, 
helter  skelter  ;  wrestled  my  way  to  a  long  counter,  got  a  cup 
of  tea  which  I  swallowed  scalding  hot,  and,  after  a  hard  strug 
gle  for  it,  carried  a  wedge  of  custard  pie  off  with  the  palm  of 
my  hand  for  a  plate,  and  skivered  back  to  the  cars,  nibbling  it 
as  I  ran  ;  for  the  bell  was  ringing  and  the  conductor  yelling  "  all 
aboard  !  "  so  loud  that  half  the  passengers  went  back  coughing 
and  choking,  and  muttering  some  kind  of  wickedness  as  they 
went. 

Well,  all  the  rest  of  my  car  ride  was  just  like  this,  only  once 
in  a  while  a  little  more  so,  till  I  got  onto  the  Sound.  There  a 
great  large  steamboat,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  took  a  part  of  us 
in,  and  carried  us  right  out  to  sea. 

HELL   GATE. 

I  was  just  a  little  disappointed  in  that  roaring  element.  The 
air  that  came  above  it  was  salty  and  light,  and  the  waves 


2O  Leaving  Home. 

sparkled  beautifully,  but  they  did  not  rage  worth  a  cent.  Still 
the  shores  away  off  on  both  sides  looked  dreamy,  and  we  cut 
through  the  water  so  swift  that  it  made  me  dizzy. 

Two  or  three  stylish  sort  of  men  seemed  as  if  they  were  hank 
ering  to  speak  to  me  as  I  sat  there  all  alone  on  deck ;  but  I 
didn't  seem  to  see  it,  and  they  contented  themselves  with  look 
ing  at  me  as  if  I  was  the  most  cruel  creature  on  earth  ;  which 
I  meant  to  be.  The  loss  of  one  satchel  full  of  doughnuts  and 
things  is  as  much  as  I  can  afford  on  one  trip. 

By  and  by  that  part  of  the  ocean  we  travelled  on  kept  grow 
ing  narrower  and  narrower,  till  you  could  see  houses  on  both 
shores,  and  splendiferous  houses  they  were,  with  great  meadows 
a-sloping  down  to  the  water;  tall  trees  shading  them,  and 
bushes  growing  together  in.  clumps.  Some  were  of  stone,  some 
of  wood,  with  pointed  roofs  and  cupolas,  and  great  wide  stoops, 
in  which  you  could  see  people  sitting  and  moving  about. 
Some  with  spy-glasses  in  their  hands,  a-watching  us  sweep  by 
them  like  a  house  afire. 

I  felt  lonesome  and  almost  homesick,  but  for  all  that  the 
sight  was  exhilarating — very. 

"  Haven't  we  got  almost  to  New  York,"  says  I  to  the  cap 
tain;  "  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  sea  was  shutting  in." 

"  Oh,  we  are  almost  there,"  says  he,  "  close  on  to  Hell  Gate 
now." 

"To  what?"  says  I,  almost  hopping  from  the  stool  I  sat 
on. 

"  Hell  Gate,"  says  he. 

"  Oh,  mercy  !  you  don't  tell  me  it  is  so  bad  as  that  ?  I 
knew  York  was  an  awful  wicked  place,  but  I  didn't  think  an 
innocent  missionary  would  have  to  go  in  it  through  that 
gate  !  " 

"  It  is  a  little  dangerous  for  sail  crafts,"  says  he,  smiling, 
I  suppose,  to  comfort  me ;  "  but  you  are  safe.  We  shall  go 
through  with  a  rush." 

I  caught  iny  breath. 

"  But  supposing  HQ  were  on  the  watch  ?  " 


Leaving  Home.  21 

"He!    Who?" 

"  Don't  ask  me ;  I'd  ratlier  not  mention  his  name,  being  a 
female  who  abhors  profanity." 

All  at  once  the  captain's  eyes  began  to  sparkle  as  if  he  were 
just  longing  for  a  tussle  with  the  evil  one. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  says  he,  "  I  reckon  we  shall  make  the 
gate  without  much  trouble.  The  blasting  won't  stop  us  yet 
awhile." 

"Blasting?" 

"  Yes ;  they'll  have  the  all-firedest  upheave  there,  before  long, 
that  ever  tore  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

"  Blasting !  with  fire  and  brimstone  ?  " 

"And  nitro-glycerine,"  says  he,  as' calm  as  skim  milk. 

"  And  you  mean  to  take  this  big  steamboat  right  through  it 
with  me  on  board  ?  " 

He  laughed  right  there  in  my  frightened  and  pale  face. 

"  I  really  don't  know  any  other  way  to  reach  New  York," 
says  he. 

"  Let  me  ashore,"  says  I,  a  starting  up,  "  me  and  my  hair- 
trunk  ;  I  don't  care  for  the  produce ;  it  may  serve  to  cool  their 
tongues  down  there.  But  put  me  and  my  hair  trunk  on  any 
land.  It  is  all  I  ask." 

"  It's  impossible,"  says  he. 

"  But  I  won't  go  through  that  in — that  awful  gate,"   says  I. 

"  Why,  we  are  in  it  now ;  don't  you  see  the  whirl  of  the 
waters  ?  " 

"  In  it  now.     Oh,  mercy !  " 

I  fell  down  upon  my  seat,  and  buried  my  face  in  my  shawl, 
shaking  from  head  to  foot. 

Sisters,  that  cruel  man  laughed.  O,  how  hardened  he  must 
have  got,  going  through  that  sulphurious  gate. 

"  I  say,  madam,  there  is  no  danger,  we  are  almost  through 
now." 

"Is  he  there?  Have  you  seen  anything  of  his  blasting 
hosts  ?  "  says  I  under  my  breath.  "  Do  they  mean  to  fire  up 
just  yet  ?  " 


22  Leaving  Home. 

(( No,  no,  we  are  all  safe.  Quite  through — New  York  is  in 
sight." 

I  let  my  shawl  drop  a  little,  and  peeped  out.  There  was  no 
sign  of  a  gale ;  the  water  was  a  little  bubbly  and  rough,  as  if  it 
had  been  rushing  through  a  race-way,  but  that  was  all.  -That 
captain  of  ours  must  have  been  on  good  terms  with  the  old 
serpent  that  keeps  the  gate,  or  he  never  could  have  got  through 
so  easy.  Now  that  it  was  over,  I  almost  wished  I  had  found 
grit  enough  to  see  how  it  was  done.  As  it  was,  my  eyes  were 
hid,  and  I  did  not  even  see  the  awful  old  gate. 

"Well,  at  last  I  rose  up  slowly  and  looked  forward.  There 
was  New  York  City,  right  before  me;  just  one  pile  of  roofs 
and  walls  with  cupolas,  pointed  fronts,  and  steeples ;  looking 
through  the  smoky  haze  acres  and  acres  of  houses,  miles  and 
miles — a  whole  island  laid  down  with  stone.  All  around  it, 
just  as  far  as  I  could  see,  the  water  was  thick  with  ships, 
steamboats,  and  small  boats,  all  flying  up  and  down  and  across, 
like  living  things,  each  with  an  errand  of  its  own.  There, 
along  the  edges  of  the  city,  was  what  seemed  to  me  like  a  forest 
of  dead  trees,  without  a  leaf  or  a  sign  of  greenness  upon  them. 

(l  Well,"  says  the  captain,  "  you  see  that  we  have  run  the 
gate.  Never  been  here  before,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"No,  never,"  says  I,  "and  hope  I  never  shall  be  again." 

"  I  thought  things  seemed  a  little  green,"  says  he. 

"  From  the  Green  Mountains,"  says  I. 

"Exactly,"  says  he.  "Well,  how  do  you  like  the  looks  of 
the  city?" 

"Hazy,"  says  I;  "  dry  as  tinder.  All  stone  walls,  and  too 
many  dead  trees  about  for  my  notion." 

"  Dead  trees  ?  I  have  never  seen  any,"  says  he,  a-looking 
around. 

"  Must  be  awful  short-sighted,"  says  I.  "  Just  look  down 
there ;  it  is  like  a  burnt  faller." 

He  looked  ahead  where  my  finger  was  pointing,  and  laughed 
right  out. 

"  Why,  that  is  the  shipping,"  says  he. 


Leaving  Home.  23 

(( Shipping,"  says  I.  "Don't  tell  me  that!  I  wasn't 
brought  up  in  the  woods  not  to  know  tree  trunks  when  I  see 
them,  dead  or  alive." 

"  But  I  assure  you  those  are  the  masts  of  vessels.  You  can 
see  the  hulls  now." 

I  did  see  the  hulls,  and  felt  dreadfully ;  what  would  the  cap 
tain  think  of  me !  At  once  I  looked  up. 

"  Yes,"  says  I.  "  There  is  no  question  about  it.  Those  are 
the  hulls  of  ships,  and  the  others  are  masts ;  but  I  was  right." 

He  laughed  :  "  But  you  said  they  were  dead  trees." 

"  Just  so.     Isn't  a  mast  made  out  of  a  tree  ?  " 

«  Certainly." 

' £  And  isn't  the  tree  dead  before  it  can  be  made  into  a  mast  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he,  and  now  it  was  his  turn  to  be  down, 
in  the  mouth. 

"  Well,  then,  isn't  the  edge  of  the  water  there  chuck  full  of 
dead  trees?" 

At  first  the  captain  sort  of  choked  a  little;  but  the  next 
minute  he  burst  out  a  laughing. 

t(  Do  you  want  fco  know  my  opinion?"  says  he. 

"  Well,  rather,"  says  I. 

a  Well,  it's  this :  Green  Mountain  or  not,  if  anybody  buys 
a  certain  lady  I  know  of  for  a  fool,  he'll  get  awfully  taken  in." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  says  I. 

With  that,  I  picked  up  my  umbrella,  tied  my  bonnet  a  little 
tighter,  took  my  bandbox  in  one  hand,  and  followed  the  crowd 
across  a  plank  bridge,  and  got  into  about  the  dirtiest  road  that 
my  foot  ever  trod  on. 

"  Want  a  carriage  ?  Want  a  carriage  ?  "  I  never  saw  men 
more  polite  than  the  drivers  with  whips  were.  It  seemed  as  if 
they  couldn't  do  enough  for  me.  It  really  was  a  strife  which 
should  take  me  in  his  carriage.  Their  attentions  really  were 
flattering.  It  was  like  a  welcome  in  this  strange  place. 

It  was  like  being  in  a  little  room  all  cushioned  seats  and 
windows  when  I  got  into  the  great  double  carriage  so  kindly 
offered  me. 


24  Leaving  Home. 

The  cushions  were  soft  as  down,  and  gave  so,  when  I  seated 
myself,  that  I  couldn't  help  catching  my  breath.  "  Where  to," 
says  the  driver,  a-leaning  through  the  window. 

"  First,"  says  I,  "  if  it  won't  be  too  much  trouble,  I  will  go 
somewhere  and  buy  a  new  satchel ;  I  really  don't  feel  at  home 
without  one.  Then  you  may  take  me  to  a  boarding-house  in 
Bleecker  Street.  You'll  know  where  it  is  by  inquiring  about  a 
little.  The  name  is  Smith,  and  they  come  from  Vermont. 
Their  daughter  married  and  settled  on  Sprucehill.  Smith. 
You  can't  help  but  find  them." 

"  Have  you  got  a  number  ?  "  says  the  man. 

"  No,"  answers  I,  "  only  one  family. 

t(  But  the  house." 

"  No,"  says  I  again.  "  I  haven't  got  any  house,  but  the  old 
homestead  on  Sprucehill." 

l(  But  Bleecker  is  a  long  street." 

"  Is  it  ?  " 

"  And  I  must  have  a  number." 

"  Why,  isn't  one  street  of  a  name  enough  ?  "  says  I,  getting 
out  of  patience.  "  What  on  earth  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  the  name  of  the  people." 

«  Smith." 

"  And  the  number  of  the  house  they  live  in." 

"  Oh,  then,  houses  go  by  numbers,  not  names,  here  in  York, 
do  they  ?  Stop  a  minute !  " 

Here  I  took  a  slip  of  paper  from  my  pocket-book  which 
Smith's  daughter  had  written,  and  gave  it  to  him. 

"  All  right,"  says  he,  hopping  up  the  wheel,  and  going  to  his 
seat.  Then  away  we  rolled,  genteel  as  could  be. 

I  bought  the  satchel  at  a  store  we  drove  by,  and  then  we 
went  011  and  on  and  on,  till  at  last  he  stopped  before  a  brick 
house  with  a  good  deal  of  iron  about  it. 

The  driver  jumped  down,  ran  up  the  steps,  pulled  a  rusty 
knob  fastened  to  the  door  stone,  and  faced  round  towards  his 
horses. 

A  girl  I  should  consider  as  hired  help  opened  the  door. 


Phcemtes  First  Visit. 


"  Yes,"  says  she. 
."I'll  get  out,"  says  I. 

The  driver  unfolded  a  lot  of  steps  that  had  been  hid  away 
under  the  windows.     I  went  do™  them  with  a  genteel 
The  man  had  been  so  polite,  I  stopped  to  thank  him 
Three  dollars,"  says  he,  a  holding  out  his  hand 
Three  dollars  ?     What  for  ?  »  says  I?  all  in  a 


and  so       "  ^    ere'    *"* 


"  But  you  invited  me." 

The  fellow  grinned,  and  held  out  his  hand  harder  than  ever 
The  help  on  top  of  the  steps  giggled. 


'"  *      I; 


an  ""Protected  female  in  a  strange 

' 


II. 

PHCEMIE'S  FIRST  VISIT. 


<*  ~ — ~v.«.     -"-",7    uuumij. 

&JH  Frost>  that  married  a  Dempster  ten 

•Efl  years  ago  when  most  of  us  were  little  mites  of  things 
id-over  seams.     She  was  a  smart  creature 


t         a  pr°per'  --  —  .  ** 

to  hope  that  she   could  be  depended   on   to 


26  Phcemie's  First  Visit. 

bring  T.p  her  children;  for  her  father  was  a  deacon  in  the 
church,  and  her  mother  just  the  salt  of  the  earth  Well,  as 
soon  as  I  got  settled  in  my  boarding-house,  I  took  it  into  my 
1-cad  to  go  and  see  Cousin  Elizabeth.  She  hadn't  been  to 
Vermont  lately,  and  I'd  rather  lost  track  of  her ;  so  I  gave 
morning  to  hunting  her  xip. 

Some  useful  things  can  be  found  in  a  great  city  life 
Now    I   tell   you,  amongst  them   is  a   great,   fat  dictionary, 
crowded  full  of  names,  where  everybody  that  keeps  a  decent 
house  sets  down  the  number,  which  is  a  convenience  f 

5T  fou^the  name  of  Cousin  Elizabeth's  husband,  who  keeps  a 
bank  somewhere  down  town,  the  book  said,  and  got  mto  the  first 
street  car  that  went  towards  the  Central  Park.     After  a  whih 
I  got  out  and  hunted  up  the  number,  feeling  awfully  anxi  us, 
for  the  houses  about  there  were  what  the  papers  call  palaual- 
a  word  we  have  not  much  use  for  in  our  parts.     I  just  stoppec 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  took  a  general  survey  b 
I  attempted  to   go  in,  feeling  more  and  more  fidgety  , 
minute,  for  that  house  just  took  me  down  with  its  sumptuous- 
ness      Such  great  windows,  with  one  monstrous  pane  in  a  s; 
and lace  and  silk  and  tassels  shining  through!     The  front  was 
four  stories  high  and  ended  off  with  the  steepest  roof  you  ever 
saw,  just  sloping  back  a  trifle,  and  flattening  off  at  the  top, 
with  windows  in  it,  and  all  sorts  of  colors  in  the  shingles 
which  they  call  "tiles"  here.     Then  the  stone  steps  wound 
up  to  a  platform  with  a  heavy  stone  railing  on  each  side,  and 
,  eat  shiny  door,  sunk  deep  into  the  wall,  was  wide  open,  and 
beyond  itLs  one  of  glass,  frosted  over  like  our  *°*°££* 
snapping  cold  morning,  and  under  my  feet  was  a  checkered 
Jblefloo,    Ifoundthekiiobofabellsunkintothedoo,  ^b 

and  pulled  it  a  little,  feeling  half-scared  to  death, 
stepped  in  and  waited  in  front  of  the  glass  door. 

1  colored  person  of  remarkably  genteel  appearance  opened 
the  door,  and  gave  me  a  look  from  head  to  foot  that  ril. 
old  Adam  in  my  bosom ;  then  he  mutte«d  something  abou 


Phcemie's  First  Visit.  27 

basement;  but  I. put  him  down  with  just  that  one  lift  of  my 


jr. 

"  Is  my  cousin,  Mrs.  Dempster,  at  home  ?  "  says  I. 

"I — I'll  inquire,"  says  he,  as  meek  as  Moses  ;  "  walk  in." 

Walk  in  I  did. 

"  Have  you  a  card  ?  "  says  he. 

"  No,"  says  I ;  "as  a  general  thing  cards  ain't  desirable 
among  relations,  nor  moral  under  any  circumstances  with 
religious  friends.  Say  that  Miss  Frost  is  here — Miss  Phoemie 
Frost,  from  the  State  of  Yermont.  No  cards !  " 

The  fellow  opened  a  door  on  one  side  of  the  hall,  and  I  went 
through.  Don't  expect  me  to  describe  that  room.  It  isn't  in 
me  to  give  the  least  idea  of  it.  Great  chunks  of  glass  like  the 
hub  of  a  wheel,  with  crooked  spokes  of  glass  starting  every  way 
from  it,  and  what  seemed  like  hundreds  of  icicles  falling  from 
them,  dropped  down  from  the  ceiling.  When  the  negro  opened 
the  blinds  and  let  in  a  drift  of  sunshine,  they  turned  into  a 
snarl  of  rainbows  that  fairly  blinded  me.  Then  there  was  a  carpet 
soft  as  spring  grass  in  a  meadow,  and  bright  as  a  flower-gar 
den  ;  chairs  shining  with  gold  and  silk  ;  marble  women,  white 
as  milk,  with  not  a  thing  on  worth  speaking  of,  and  looking- 
glasses  half  as  large  as  our  spring  ponds. 

I  turned  my  looks  away  from  the  women  without  clothes, 
while  that  colored  person  was  by;  but  gave  them  a  skimpy 
peep  or  two  the  minute  he  was  gone.  Really,  it  was  dreadful. 
I  would  not  have  believed  such  things  of  Cousin  Elizabeth. 

Oh  mercy  on  me  !  while  I  was  looking,  in  came  a  gentleman, 
who  bowed,  and  took  a  chair,  and  sat  smiling  on  those  creatures 
just  as  if  he  was  used  to  it.  Talk  of  blushing — my  face  was 
one  blaze  of  fire. 

While  I  was  wondering  what  I  should  do,  a  girl,  or  what 
ought  to  have  been  a  little  girl,  came  sidling  into  the  room, 
gave  me  a  look  as  if  I'd  been  a  dog  in  the  wrong  place,  and 
went  up  to  the  gentleman. 

"  Mamma  will  be  down  directly,  and  has  sent  me  to  enter 
tain  you,"  says  she,  shaking  out  her  short  skirts,  and  almost 


2 3  About  Girls. 

sitting  down  on  the  crimpy  hair  that  half  covered  them 
behind.  Ah !  I  see  you  are  admiring  our  crouching  Venus. 
Lovely,  isn't  it?  The  curving  lines  are  so  perfect.  The  limbs 
-lhave  you  observed  the  foreshortening  of  that  limb?  " 

The  foreshortening  of  that  limb  ?      Mercy  on  me,  I  couldn  t 
stand  it.     Another  minute  and  I  should  have  boxed  her  ears, 
for  all  the  blood  that  burned  in  my  face  went  tingling  down  t 
my  fin-ers.     That  was  too  much ;  so  I  up  and  said  I  would  call 
again,  °and  marched  right  out  of  the  house.     Girls  indeed ! 


III. 

ABOUT   GIRLS. 


JEAR   SISTERS:— You   ask  a  puzzling   and  painful 
question-What    kind    of    girls   clo   the    children   1 


&~s**Hi  write  about  make  ? 

My   dear  friends,  girls-modest,  rosy,  bright-eyed   school 
girls  such  as  you  are  a-thinking  of-are  scarce  as  hen  s  teeth 
in  this  great  city,  and  not  to  be  found  in  profuseness  any 
where      They  went  out  with  pink  calico  sun-bonnets,  and  am  t 
likely  to  come  in  again  yet  awhile,  I  tell  you  !     Republican 
institutions  can  be  carried  to  a  great  extent;  and  our  young 
ones  have  found  it  out,  and  trample  down  all  the  good,  whol 
some  old  fashions  before  their  little  feet  quite  get  out  of  baby 
shoes.     At  this  moment  I  can't  find  a  girl  of  twelve  years  olc 
that  don't  know  a  thousand  times  more  than  her  mother,  and 
wouldn't  attempt  to  teach  law  to  her  father  if  he  was  a  judge 
in  the  Supreme  Court.     Yet,  it's  a  shocking  truth,  the  little 
upstarts  don't  know  how  to  read  like  Christians,  or  spell  half 
their  words.     The  tip-top  fashionable  school-marms  here  are 
quite  above  teaching  such  common  things  as  reading  and  spel 


About  Girls.  29 

ing,  and  turn  up  their  noses  at   any  study  that  hasn't  some 
"  ology  "  or  «  phy  "  at  the  end  of  it. 

I  should  just  like  to  have  a  string  of  the  girls  that  walk  in 
squads  up  and  down  the  Fifth  Avenue,  with  short  dresses  and 
hair  streaming  loose  down  their  backs,  in  a  district  school- 
house,  with  no  books  but  Webster's  Spelling-book  and  the 
Columbian  Eeader.  Wouldn't  I  astonish  them  with  science  ? 
I  guess  they  would  understand  the  meaning  of  a  spelling-class 
by  the  time  I  got  through  with  'em ! 

As  for  arithmetic,  they  don't  know  what  it  is  in  these  high- 
falutin  seminaries ;  mathematics  is  the  word ;  A  B  roots  and 
squaring  circles,  as  if  circles  ever  would  be  square.  Of  course 
they  can't,  having  been  tried  and  kept  round  as  an  O  all  the 
time.  But  these  A's  and  B's,  and  roots  and  such  like,  are 
considered  as  arithmetic  for  girls  here ;  so  the  end  of  it  is, 
they  can,  maybe,  tell  you  how  many  square  feet  there  are  in  a 
building  lot,  but  couldn't  add  up  ten  shillings  to  save  their 
lives ;  of  course  they  forget  how  to  estimate  the  square  feet 
for  want  of  having  unlimited  building  lots  to  work  on,  while 
the  washing  bill  and  girl's  wages  and  such  things,  come  up 
every  day  all  through  their  lives. 
What  do  girls  learn  at  the  schools  ? 

Oh,  a  mighty  deal  that  some  good  women  pass  half  through 
a  lifetime  without  knowing,  and  are  just  as  likely  as  not  all 
the  better  for  it.  Some  of  the  lessons  are  paid  for,  and  some 
are  given  free  gratis  for  nothing  by  the  scholars  to  each  other, 
and  what  some  of  them  don't  know  in  the  way  of  flirting, 
drooping  the  eyes,  and  things  you  never  dreamed  of,  ain't  worth 
keeping  secret. 

"•A  little  leaven  leavens  the  whole  lump."  That  passage 
has  always  relieved  my  feelings  about  the  old  patriarchs ;  for 
it's  a  proof  that  they  and  their  families  had  raised  bread  in 
those  old  Bible  times ;  and  light  bread,  even  if  saleratus  has 
to  be  used,  is  a  blessing  on  the  domestic  hearth.  For  that 
reason,  I'm  astonished  that  bread-making  is  left  to  men-bakers 
here  in  York.  But  this  passage  sometimes  puts  you  in  mind 


3O  About  Girls. 

of  something  beside  turnpike  emptins.  I  should  like  to  pro 
mulgate  some  genuine  old-fashioned  ideas  into  these  tip-top 
schools,  where  one  bold,  forward  girl  with  unwholesome  ideas 
in  her  head,  would  set  them  working  like  leaven  in  every 
innocent  young  soul  in  the  seminary.  Somehow,  more  or 
less,  girls  always  do  manage  to  give  a  good  deal  of  knowledge 
that  isn't  set  down  in  the  bill,  though  that  is  generally  long 
enough,  goodness  knows. 

I  wish  you  could  see  one  of  these  bills  with  the  extras. 
Now  in  our  district  schools,  there  isn't  much  chance  for  the 
scholars  to  get  over  intimate.  They  don't  sleep  and  eat  and 
work  together,  like  canary  birds  crowded  in  one  cage  and  hud 
dled  together  on  one  roost ;  the  weak  don't  catch  the  faults  of 
the  strong,  and  if  they  did,  the  free  breezes  of  our  hills  would 
sweep  them  away  before  the  poison  struck  in.  Flirtations 
do  not  become  a  science  with  them  before  they  can  spell 
"  baker,"  and  they  don't  often  learn  such  things  from  their 
New  England  mothers,  anyhow. 

Well,  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  see  a  genuine  girl  who 
did  not  think  herself  a  marvel  of  superior  knowledge  at  twelve, 
or  had  not  plunged  into  a  heart  disease  at  the  sight  of  some 
hotel  lounger  at  fourteen.  I  tell  you,  sisters,  these  young 
creatures  have  too  much  liberty  ;  they  have  no  wholesome 
growth  either  of  body  or  mind.  They  know  too  much  at  fif 
teen,  and  will  know  a  great  deal  too  little  at  forty. 

The  girl  of  twelve — which  is  about  the  age  you  are  thinking 
of — has  a  great  deal  more  assurance  than  some  of  our  church 
members  at  fifty.  Baby  boys  and  girls  haven't  gone  quite  out 
of  fashion,  but  they  are  getting  scarcer  every  year,  people  tell  me  ; 
and  regular-built,  wholesome  children  are  as  hard  to  find  here 
as  green  gooseberries  in  October.  I've  seen  plenty  of  little  men 
and  women,  that  couldn't  speak  plain  to  save  their  lives,  dressed 
out  like  soldiers  on  a  training  day,  with  short  frocks  or  tunics, 
and  legs  as  bare  as  bare  could  be ;  but  such  boys  and  girls  as 
we  remember  are  not  to  be  found  anywhere  nowadays,  I  tell 
you. 


About  Girls.  31 

What  does  all  this  mean  V  Just  this :  Mothers  don't  trust 
their  young  ones  out  of  fashion  long  enough  to  grow.  Besides, 
there  isn't,  only  now  and  then,  one  who  gets  acquainted  with 
her  own  child  well  enough  to  know  what  is  good  for  it.  Why, 
these  city  women  would  go  crazy  to  see  a  little  girl,  six  years 
old,  swing  upon  a  gate  or  riding  horseback  on  a  rusty  old 
farm-horse,  gripping  the  mane  with  both  hands,  and  sending 
up  shouts  of  fun  if  she  happened  to  tumble  off.  Children,  in 
the  natural  state,  love  water,  like  ducks  and  goslings.  It  used 
to  be  a  sight  to  watch  them,  knee-deep  in  the  brooks,  with  their 
tenty-tointy  feet  shining  through  the  ripples,  as  they  hunted 
for  water-cresses  and  sweet  flag-root ;  but  catch  one  of  your 
new-fangled  young  ones  at  anything  with  so  much  human  nature 
in  it.  All  the  water  they  see  is  in  the  bottom  of  a  bath-tub, 
rubbed  on  their  skimpy  limbs  by  an  Irish  girl's  hands.  Not 
the  mother's.  Oh}  no  !  Care  of  one's  own  children  is  too  much 
for  a  healthy  young  woman  nowadays.  Being  a  professor 
and  member  of  a  church,  I  want  to  speak  accordingly,  and  just 
drop  the  mothers  here.  Christian  language  isn't  up  to  the  oc 
casion. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  the  meanness  of  these  mothers  in 
hiving  up  their  young  ones  and  cheating  'em  out  of  the  very 
best  years  of  life,  is  enough  to  make  a  saint  mad.  The  rough- 
and-tumble  season,  which  gives  a  child  sound  lungs,  strong 
limbs,  and  a  brain  that  thinks  of  nothing  but  high  play,  is  just 
knocked  out  of  their  lives.  It's  an  awful  swindle  on  the  poor 
little  things,  and  I'm  not  afraid  to  say  it  openly  and  above- 
board  here  in  my  very  first  report. 

If  I  haven't  a  right  to  speak  on  this  subject,  I  should  like  to 
know  who  has.  That's  all.  I  never  had  a  child  of  my  own, 
which  is,  perhaps,  natural  to  a  state  of  single  blessedness,  and 
so  had  plenty  of  time  to  make  other  people's  children  a  special 
ity.  Besides,  haven't  I  kept  district  school,  arid  boarded  round 
enough  to  get  an  inside  view  of  a  good  many  family  circles  ? 
Haven't  I  seen  droves  of  young  ones,  in  loose  calico  slips  or 
cosey-fitting  jackets  and  trousers,  coming  miles  to  school,  only 


32  About  Girls. 

setting  their  dinner  baskets  down  now  and  then  to  stone  d 
squirrel,  or  climb  up  among  the  burrs  of  some  great  chestnut 
limb  which  offered  to  give  them  a  ride  to  Boston  or  a  trip  to 
Canterbury. 

Dear  rne,  I  think  I  see  them  now  running  "  like  split,"  as 
they  said,  to  catch  up  time,  with  such  a  lively  color  rushing 
through  the  tan  on  their  faces,  hats  off,  and  sun-bonnets  flying 
out  by  the  strings. 

There,  that's  what  I  call  childhood.  You  and  I,  sister, 
know  something  about  it ;  now  don't  we  ?  Do  you  remember 
that  little  red  school-house  where  we  learned  our  letters,  and 
the  old  broken-limbed  apple-tree  behind  it  ?  No  wonder  the 
limbs  got  scraggly;  they  couldn't  stand  horse  for  a  whole 
school,  year  after  year,  without  some  wear  and  tear,  could 
they? 

Well,  may  be  you  and  I  owe  to  that  old  patriarch  more  than 
we  know  of.  The  apples  were  so  sour  the  pigs  wouldn't  eat 
'em,  but  they  never  hurt  us.  Then  the  limbs  stretching  out 
every  which  way — weren't  they  splendid  to  swing  on,  and  in  a 
hot  day  the  shade  was  like  a  tent. 

You  and  I  have  been  tough  and  hearty  all  our  lives,  just  as 
like  as  not  on  account  of  that  old  tree  and  the  long  road  home, 
and  the  pine  woods  it  ran  through,  with  the  good  wholesome 
samp  and  milk  when  we  got  there.  There  was  generally  a  lit 
tle  red  light  in  the  sky  from  the  sunset  when  we  went  to  bed, 
and  just  a  streak  of  rosy  yellow  when  we  got  up,  with  dew 
enough  on  the  grass  to  wash  our  faces  in  before  breakfast. 

That's  what  I  call  life  for  a  child ;  all  out-doors  for  a  play 
ground,  good,  sound  sleep,  plenty  of  wholesome  food,  three 
times  a  day,  and  always  hungry  at  that.  Why,  the  few  years 
after  you  begin  to  toddle,  and  before  you  learn  to  read,  if  you're 
properly  let  alone,  are  choke-full  of  happiness  that  ripples  like 
a  brook  through  your  whole  life.  I  say,  once  more,  it's  a  sin 
and  a  shame  to  cheat  a  child  out  of  that  which  is  just  God's 
portion  of  a  human  life. 

Now  I  ask  you,  isn't  it  probable,  between  you  and  I,  that 


More  About  Girls.  33 

the  Saviour  picked  out  just  such  bright,  happy  little  creatures 
as  these,  when  He  took  'em  in  His  arms  and  blessed  'em,  and 
said  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  If  the  apostles  wanted 
to  hunt  up  one  of  the  kind  now,  they'd  have  to  catch  it  in  the 
cradle.  Just  think  of  bringing  forward  one  of  the  little  things 
wo  meet  in  the  avenues  here,  to  be  held  up  as  a  monument— 
all  flirtings  and  lace,  kid  gaiters,  pink  and  blue  sashes,  long 
white  feathers,  and  parasols.  Yes,  believe  it  or  not,  I  say 
parasols  about  the  size  of  a  poppy.  Oh,  don't  mention  it  1 
The  whole  thing  makes  me  sick.  The  children  you  meet  here 
in  York  look  like  little  barefooted  scarecrows,  or  else  like 
motto  papers  afloat. 

But  are  all  the  little  folks  you  see  painted  like  a  dahlia,  and 
pink  as  hollyhocks.  You  are  asking  this  question  in  the  Soci 
ety.  I  know  it.  Well,  I  should  rather  think  not.  These 
whipper-snappers  go  tipping  down  the  avenues,  and  ride  with 
their  mothers'  lap-dogs  in  the  Park,  a-looking  like  their  own 
French  dolls,  and  are  about  as  likely  to  make  men  and  women. 


IV. 

MORE    ABOUT    GIRLS. 


T.STERS :— My  cousin's  little  girl  has  just  upset  me. 
Remember  she  is  my  own  flesh  and  blood ;  and  gen. 

^ uine  honest  blood  in  Vermont  is  as  pure  as  the  sap 

in  our  maple-trees,  and  ought  to  keep  sweet  as  the  sugar  we 
make  from  it,  wherever  it  is  found.  Being  my  second  cousin 
in  her  own  right,  I  expected  to  find  her  a  model  of  what  the 
rising  generation  ought  to  be,  and  went  to  that  house,  exalting 
myself  accordingly.  I  shall  find,  thought  I,  a  genteel,  mod 
est,  seemly  little  lady,  polite,  and  cordially  glad  to  see  a  rela 
tive  that  wants  to  love  her  and  exalt  her  into  a  pattern  and  a 
2* 


34  More  Abotit  Girls. 

monument  of  female  promise.  But  instead  of  that,  just  read 
my  last  report,  though  it  must  fall  short  of  giving  you  any  idea 
how  heavy  my  heart  was,  and  how  my  brain  burned  with  dis 
appointment. 

lias  female  modesty  died  out  since  you  and  I  came  into  the 
world  ?  or  was  it  burnt  over  during  the  war,  like  the  great 
prairies,  where  the  hot  flames  parch  up  all  the  sweet  green 
grass  and  the  bright  flowers,  killing  them  root  and  blossom, 
snakes  likewise  ?  One  thing  is  certain,  my  dear  sisters  in  the 
cause,  honesty  among  men  and  modesty  among  women  go  hand 
in  hand  all  over  the  earth.  When  women  degenerate,  it  is  be 
cause  the  moral  atmosphere  which  they  breathe  is  tainted  and 
unwholesome.  Something  has  gone  awfully  wrong  both  with 
the  men  and  women  of  America  in  these  latter  years.  The 
fraud  and  demoralization  of  the  thing  they  call  "  shoddy  "  has 
settled  down  upon  our  social  life  everywhere.  I  shudder  to 
think  of  it !  With  a  constitution  made  strong  with  fresh  air 
from  the  Green  Mountains,  and  morals  consolidated  in  the  old 
est  congregation  of  the  State,  I  feel  afraid  of  myself  and  almost 
weary  of  well-doing.  It  has  become  so  miserably  unfashion 
able  to  be  honest,  that  people  seem  to  think  me  crazy  when  I 
speak  my  mind. 

Do  not  start  and  say  that  Phcemie  Frost  is  ready  to  give  up 
her  mission ;  because  she  isn't  of  that  sort.  Her  hand  is  on 
the  plough — they  spell  it  plow  here,  which  takes  away  half  the 
strength  of  that  agricultural  word — on  the  plough,  is  she,  a 
female,  to  turn  back  because  rocks  and  roots  choke  up  the  fur 
row  ?  Not  if  Miss  Frost  knows  anything  of  herself ! 

Speaking  of  female  modesty,  between  my  little  cousin  and 
that  marble  girl,  the  poor  naked  creature  seemed  to  have  the 
most  of  it.  She  did  scrouch  down  and  try  to  hide  herself  be 
hind  herself,  as  if  she  was  ashamed  that  the  man  who  made 
her  had  forgot  to  cover  her  up  a  little.  But  the  live  girl 
did  not  seem  to  feel  for  her  a  mite ;  in  fact,  I  think  she  en 
joyed  seeing  her  scrouch,  because  of  the  foreshortenings,  you 
know. 


More  About  Girls.  35 

It's  of  no  use  denying  it,  I  did  feel  down  in  the  mouth  about 
tliis  girl ;  and  seeing  my  duty  clear,  determined  to  do  it  or  per 
ish  in  the  attempt. 

Once  more  I  stood  in  front  of  that  "palatial  residence," 
and,  with  a  hand  made  firm  by  a  powerful  sense  of  duty, 
pulled  the  silver  knob  in  the  jamb  of  the  door.  The  same  fiii- 
ified  youngster  came  and  asked  me  with  his  saucy  eyes  what  I 
wanted  there.  This  time  I  had  written  out  a  square  piece  of 
paper,  on  which  he  had  the  pleasure  of  reading:  "  Miss  Phce- 
mie  Frost,  Home  Missionary  and  Special  Plenipotentiary  from 
the  Society  of  Infinite  Progress,  Sprucehill,  Vermont." 
l(  Think,"  says  I,  when  I  handed  him  the  paper,  "  if  this  don't 
fetch  them  all  down  a  notch  or  two,  nothing  will." 

And  it  did ! 

Yes,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  saying  pretension  and  pomposity 
do  have  a  wonderful  effect  here  in  New  York.  I  don't  know 
whether  it  was  the  missionary  or  the  plenipotentiary  that 
brought  my  cousin  to  her  oats,  but  rather  think  it  was  the  lat 
ter — having  a  foreign  twang  to  it,  of  course,  it  impressed  her 
aristocratically. 

The  waiter-man  took  me  into  the  drawing-room,  as  he  called 
it,  but  why,  no  human  being  could  have  told ;  for  there  wasn't 
a  sign  of  drawing  paper,  pencil,  nor  painting  things  in  sight. 
In  fact,  it  was  the  self-same  room  that  I  went  into  the  last  time 
I  was  there.  A  little  darker  and  more  sunsetty,  because  the 
red  curtains  swept  close,  and  blinds  were  rolled  down  under 
the  lace.  There  was  that  marble  girl,  too,  a-looking  at  me  as 
if  half-scared  to  death ;  but  in  that  light  she  seemed  dressed  in 
a  veil  of  pink  gauze,  and  looked  just  lovely.  There  being  no 
man  by  I  really  could  have  kissed  her,  she  seemed  so  sweet, 
and  so  awfully  ashamed  of  herself  huddled  down  as  if  she 
longed  to  creep  out  of  sight. 

The  door  opened,  and  that  fellow  came  in  simpering  like  a 
chessy  cat,  and  asked  if  I  would  be  so  good  as  to  walk  up  to 
the  boudor. 

"To  the  what?  "says  I. 


36  More  About  Girls. 

"  To  the  ladies'  boudor,"  says  lie,  a  turning  liis  head,  and 
trying  to  choke  off  a  laugh.  "  This  way  !  " 

I  took  my  satchel  from  a  table  all  framed  in  gold,  and 
checkered  with  precious  stones,  where  I  had  laid  it  down. 
Then,  bowing  my  head  and  lifting  my  forefinger,  told  that  ser 
vile  creature  to  proceed,  with  an  air  of  command  that  quenched 
his  saucy  smile  in  110  time. 

Up  the  stairs  he  went,  and  I  followed  after  ;  treading  a  car 
pet  that  gave  to  the  feet  like  a  meadow  in  its  first  spring  grass. 
Through  an  open  door  I  saw  my  cousin  lifting  herself  up  from 
a  sofa,  covered  with  blue  silk  and  open-worked  lace.  Then  she 
dawdled  towards  me  with  one  hand  out,  and  the  laziest  smile 
you  ever  saw  about  her  mouth. 

"  Cousin  Emily,"  says  I,  "  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Frost,"  says  she,  "  I'm  happy  to  make  your 
acquaintance." 

Happy  to  make  my  acquaintance,  and  I  her  first  cousin. 
Did  you  ever  ? 

At  first  I  was  taken  aback,  and  felt  as  if  I  should  choke. 
Hadn't  I  learned  that  great  white  creature  her  letters  ?  Hadn't 
I  spent  dollars  on  her  for  slates  and  pencils,  besides  taking  her 
to  the  maple  camps  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  giving  her 
no  end  of  sweet  sap  to  drink.  Who  was  it  but  me  that  turned 
down  her  first  over-and-over  seam,  and  gave  her  a  tentie-tointy 
silver  thimble  to  take  the  stitches  with.  I  wonder  what  she 
did  with  it  ?  Now  she  was  happy  to  make  my  acquaintance, 
and  dragged  a  double  winrow  of  worked  flounces,  topped  off 
with  a  muslin  skirt  and  scarlet  training  jacket,  across  the  room 
to  tell  me  so.  Our  mothers  were  sisters  ;  pray  remember  that ! 

"  Take  that  seat,"  says  she,  a-dropping  down  to  the  sofa  as  a 
great  white  hen  turkey  settles  onto  its  nest.  "  How  long  have 
you  been  in  the  city  ?  Do  you  make  anything  of  a  visit  ?  So 
thoughtful  and  kind  of  you  to  give  me  an  early  call." 

There  I  sat,  straight  as  a  sign-post,  with  my  satchel  in  my 
lap,  and  both  hands  on  that,  riling  iip  like  an  Irish  girl's  cof 
fee,  and  feeling  the  wrath  within  me  grow  stronger  and 


More  About  Girls.  37 

stronger  while  she  settled  back  and  half-shut  her  eyes,  and 
seemed  to  be  quite  satisfied  that  she  had  done  her  best.  I 
could  see  that  her  half-shut  eyes  were  turned  on  my  alpaca 
dress,  which  was  a  trifle  dusty,  and  on  my  cotton  gloves,  that 
were  clean  and  whole,  at  any  rate.  While  she  examined  them, 
I  took  an  observation  of  her.  Mercy,  how  she  has  changed  ! 
Five  times  the  hair  she  ever  had  before  hung  in  great,  heavy 
braided  loops  down  her  back.  There  must  be  some  way  of  mak 
ing  the  hair  grow,  'specially  here  in  York,  that  we  never  heard 
of.  And  her  figure,  which  was  slim  and  graceful  as  the  droop 
of  a  willow  when  she  married,  has  swelled  out  fearfully  be 
hind,  which  makes  her  seem  to  stoop,  and  gives  one  the  most 
humpy  idea  of  a  camel  in  motion  of  anything  I  know,  which, 
being  Scriptural,  is,  I  dare  say,  the  only  religious  idea  she  has 
kept  firm  to. 

"  You  called  the  other  day,"  says  she.  "  I  was  so  sorry  not 
to  have  seen  you  ;  but  I  was  dressing  to  go  out.  Still,  you  saw 
my  little  girl?" 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  I  saw  your  little  girl ;  and,  to  tell  you  the 
honest  truth,  that  is  what  brings  me  here  now.  I  haven't  had 
a  minute's  rest  since  I  was  here.  Why,  Cousin  Emily,  I  ex 
pected  to  see  a  child.  Instead  of  that — " 

She  roused  up  at  this,  opened  her  eyes  wide,  and  interrupted 
me. 

"Instead  of  that,"  says  she,  turning  a  great  gold  bracelet  on 
her  arm,  and  smiling  as  if  what  she  was  saying  swelled  her  out 
with  pride — "  instead  of  that,  you  found  a  finished  young  lady. 
•No  wonder  you  were  surprised." 

"  A  finished  young  lady !  "  says  I,  riling  into  strength. 
"  That  is  what  no  child  ever  can  be ;  and  let  me  tell  you,  the 
attempt  to  force  one  into  such  an  unnatural  creature  is  abomi 
nable.  You  can  polish  every  bit  of  the  modesty  and  innocence 
of  childhood  out  of  a  little  girl ;  but  all  that  you  can  get  for  it 
is  afiectation  and  self-sufficient  impertinence,  becoming  neither 
to  the  child  nor  the  woman.  Why,  cousin,  the  little  creature  I 
saw  in  your  parlor — sent  there,  as  she  said,  to  entertain  a  gen- 


38  More  About  Girls. 

tleman — was  just  an  absurdity  to  him,  and  to  me  something 
dreadful.  I  asked  myself  what  a  child  like  that  would  become 
at  forty  years  of  age.  Why,  cousin,  when  she  is  at  her  meridian 
she  will  feel  herself  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty.  You  have 
cut  off  all  the  bloom  and  richness  of  a  young  life ;  you  have 
made  a  dainty  little  monster  of  her — swept  away  all  companion 
ship  with  children,  and  made  it  presumption  and  impertinence 
when  she  attempts  to  force  herself  among  her  elders.  I  could 
not  be  so  cruel  to  a  dog  as  you  have  been  to  that  child." 

Cousin  Emily  woke  up  now  with  a  vengeance.  Her  sleepy 
eyes  flashed  lightning.  "Cruel!  "  says  she.'  "I  cruel  to  my 
only  daughter  ?  Why,  there  is  not  a  child  in  America  who  has 
had  such  care — such  abundant  chances  for  improvement.  She 
has  been  to  the  most  expensive  schools." 

"  Exactly,"  says  I. 

<c  She  has  had  masters  at  home — music,  dancing,  the  lan 
guages— 

"  Exactly,"  says  I. 

"Things  that  I  never  thought  of  learning  she  has  mastered." 

"Just  so,"  says  I. 

"  She  had  a  French  nurse  before  she  could  speak.  No  ex 
pense  has  been  spared  by  her  father.  I  never  had  such  chances ; 
and  we  are  determined  to  give  her  a  splendid  education.  In 
fact,  she  might  come  out  this  season,  so  far  as  that  is  con 
cerned  ;  but  I  have  resolved  to  be  rigid — not  a  day  before  she 
is  seventeen.  Then  her  education  will  be  complete." 

"Her  education  complete  at  seventeen!  Why,  Cousin 
Emily,  a  woman's  education  is  never  complete.  At  the  best 
schools  we  get  but  a  dreamy  sort  of  idea  of  the  things  we  must 
bring  all  the  faculties  of  a  well-regulated  mind  to  understand 
in  after  years.  A  well-educated  woman  is  one  who  studies  and 
learns  something  every  day  of  her  life — who  thinks  about  what 
she  sees,  and  acts  upon  what  she  knows." 

Cousin  Emily  lifted  up  both  hands,  all  covered  with  shining 
rings,  as  if  to  choke  me  off.  I  stopped.  Far  be  it  from 
Phcemie  Frost  to  force  the  opinions  of  our  Society  upon  un- 


Poor  Children.  39 

willing  ears ;  but  I  lifted  my  forefinger  in  solemn  admonish 
ment,  and  says  I : 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Emily,  Cousin  Emily,  has  it  got  so  that  you  hold 
up  both  hands  against  common-sense  !  " 

"  Not  against  common-sense,"  says  she,  "  but  against  your 
uncommonly  long  sentences.  Why,  Miss  Frost,  it  is  like  our 
old-fashioned  country  preaching." 

"  Which  has  died  out  of  your  heart,  I  dare  say.  Oh,  Emily, 
Emily,  what  would  your  sainted  mother,  my  aunt,  say  ?  " 

This  brought  the  misguided  woman  to  her  tears.  She  sat  up 
on  that  lace-silk  sofa,  straight  and  listening,  as  I  have  seen  her 
many  a  time  on  the  a  b  c  bench  at  school,  when  her  little 
feet  couldn't  touch  the  floor. 

"  Cousin  PhoBmie,"  says  she,  "  I  am  trying  to  do  what  is 
right." 

"  I  hope  so,"  says  I,  with  tears  of  thankfulness  in  my  eyes, 
for  the  "  Cousin  Phosmie "  went  straight  to  my  heart.  But 
my  mind  isn't  quite  equal  to  more  of  this  conversation  this 
morning.  The  next  time  I  come  this  way  we  shall  both  be 
more  like  our  natural  selves." 

With  that  I  tightened  my  cotton  gloves,  took  up  my 
satchel,  and  left  that  house,  feeling  that  I  had  paved  the  way 
to  a  good  work  hereafter. 


i  Y. 

POOR    CHILDREN. 

[RE  there  no  genuine  children  among  the  poor  of  New 
York  ? 

Beloved  sisters,  your  question  wrings  the  heart  in 
my  bosom.  I  asked  it  of  myself  this  very  morning,  and  resolved 
to  investigate. 

I  hadn't  found  a  child  that  could  be  called  a  child  outside  a 


4O  Poor  Children. 

perambulator,  which  means  a  little  carriage  pushed  by  an  Irish 
girl,  with  a  cap  on,  along  the  avenues.  So  I  took  my  mission 
down  among  the  tenement-houses.  There  I  found  young  ones 
on  the  sidewalks,  the  doorsteps,  and  in  the  gutters,  thick  as 
grasshoppers  in  a  dry  pasture  lot,  all  hard  at  work,  trying  to 
play.  But  the  play  seemed  more  like  fighting  than  fun.  Two 
girls  stopped  me  on  the  sidewalk,  swinging  the  dirty  end  of  a 
rope,  while  another  tried  to  jump  it,  but  only  tripped  up,  and 
went  at  it  again.  Shaking  her  loose  hair,  and — yes,  I  say  it 
with  tears  in  my  eyes — swearing  at  the  other  two. 

I  laid  my  hand  on  her  head,  and  gently  expostulated.  She 
was  a  little  mite  of  a  girl,  with  a  sharp,  knowing  face.  The 
first  word  she  spoke  made  my  nerves  creep.  Why,  that  little 
thing  had  the  wickedness  of  an  old  sinner  on  her  baby  mouth, 
and  couldn't  speak  it  out  plain  yet. 

Oh !  my  dear  sister,  and  you,  my  friend,  in  the  great  course 
of  infinite  progress  and  general  perfection,  had  you  been  with 
me,  almost  broken-hearted  among  that  rabble  of  children,  who 
will  never,  never  know  what  childhood  is,  the  last  pound  of 
butter  and  dozen  of  eggs  in  our  village  would  be  freely  given 
to  support  my  mission  here.  Barefooted,  bareheaded,  bare 
legged,  and,  it  seemed  to  be,  bare  of  soul,  these  little  wretches 
swarmed  around  me  when  I  kindly  asked  the  baby  girls  not  to 
swear,  all  making  faces  at  me.  The  boys,  that  sat  with  their 
feet  in  the  gutters,  flung  away  the  oyster-shells  and  lobster 
claws  they  had  just  raked  from  an  ash-barrel,  and  began  to  hoot 
at  me.  One  little  wretch — forgive  me  for  calling  names — not 
more  than  five  years  old,  had  a  cigar  in  his  mouth  half  as  long 
as  his  own  arm.  When  I  stooped  down  to  take  it  from  him, 
he  gave  a  great  puff  right  into  my  eyes,  and  scampered  off,  with 
his  dirty  fingers  twirling  about  his  face  like  the  handle  of  a 
coffee-mill. 

As  a  New  England  woman,  whose  duty,  I  take  it,  is  to  set 
everybody  right,  I  wasn't  to  be  put  down  by  a  boy  like  that, 
but  caught  him  by  the  collar  of  his  jacket,  snatched  the  cigar 
from  his  lips,  and  flung  it  into  the  gutter,  where  it  sizzled  itself 


He  Has  Co  vie.  41 

out.  Then  I  lifted  my  forefinger  as  I  do  in  Sunday-class,  and 
began  to  admonish  him.  But  instead  of  listening,  he  got  the 
skirt  of  my  alpaca  dress  between  his  teeth  and  ground  a  great 
hole  in  it,  swearing  like  a  trooper  betweenwhiles. 

Oh,  sister  !  that  was  a  trying  season !  In  less  than  three 
minutes  the  sidewalk  was  swarming  with  dirty-faced  children. 
I  might  as  well  have  been  in  a  wasps'  nest.  The  spiteful  imps 
buzzed  around  me  so — little  girls,  with  lank  hair  falling  over 
their  eyes  ;  lazy  boys,  swaggering  like  drunken  men,  and  swear 
ing  like  troopers ;  and  a  woman — the  boy  who  smoked  called 
her  mother — who  stood  on  a  doorstep,  with  a  hand  on  each 
hip,  scolding  like  fury.  I  kept  my  finger  up.  They  would 
not  hear  a  word  I  said,  but  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  do  that  much, 
when  a  very  gentlemanly  man  in  blue  regimentals  touched  my 
arm,  and  observed  in  the  kindest  way  that  things  were  getting 
so  mixed  and  unpleasant  perhaps  I  would  permit  him  to  escort 
me  round  the  corner.  You  know,  sister,  I  always  had  a  power 
in  the  lift  of  my  finger.  It  was  wonderfully  manifest  just  as 
this  gentleman  crossed  the  street,  and  must  have  astonished 
him,  for  the  children  hushed  up  at  once,  and-huddled  back  to 
the  doorstep  like  a  flock  of  lambs,  which  was  an  evidence  of 
moral  suasion  I  take  pride  in  reporting  to  the  Society. 


VI. 


HE   HAS    COME. 

|  ESTERS  : — As  a  representative  of  your  august  body, 
I  ought  now  to  have  been  in  an  atmosphere  of  royalty 
— Imperial  royalty,  which  counts  at  A  No.  1,  as  kings 
are  put  down.  The  young  potentate  of  all  the  Kussias,  with 
all  his  ships  and  things,  ought  to  have  been  on  hand  a  week 
ago ;  but  he  still  lingers  on  the  "  rolling  sea  and  briny  deep," 


42  He  Has  Come. 

a  prey,  it  is  dreadfully  to  be  feared,  to  sea-sickness — which, 
they  tell  me,  is  heart-rending — and  storms  which  are  liable  to 
aggravate  the  sea-sickness. 

I  sympathize  with  that  young  man  in  all  the  depths  of  my 
feminine  nature — which  are  getting  bottomless  from  the  great 
need  of  compassion  which  human  life  exhibits  to  the  thinking 
mind.  He  ought  to  have  been  here  when  our  enthusiasm  was  at 
its  hottest  point.  Then  he  would  have  had  the  stormiest  sort  of 
a  welcome.  The  soldiers  were  ready  to  file  out  any  minute ;  the 
mouths  of  ever  so  many  cannon  were  burning  to  let  off  fire ;  all 
the  ships  would  have  burst  into  a  storm  of  flags  at  the  first 
gun.  People  couldn't  but  just  keep  from  shouting  every  time 
they  met  each  other.  But  the  young  man  didn't  come.  He 
hasn't  come  yet,  and  all  the  enthusiasm  is  burning  down  to 
cinders  and  ashes.  When  he  does  come,  I'm  afraid  it'll  be  like 
putting  a  mess  of  apples  into  an  oven  after  the  pan  of  baked 
pork  and  beans  has  been  drawn  out — half  roasted^  and  hard  at 
the  core  when  you  cut  'em.  * 

This  is  a  great  country,  my  friends — in  fact,  very  extensive 
— but  you  can't  wake  it  up  to  an  earthquake  of  enthusiasm 
about  the  same  person  more  than  once.  That  prince  had  bet 
ter  have  struck  when  the  iron  was  red-hot.  He  didn't,  and.  so 
I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  him,  except  that  he  isn't  more 
at  sea  than  the  rest  of  us.  "When  he  does  come,  depend  upon 
it,  there  will  be  an  uprising  among  the  females  of  this  great 
city  ;  and  foremost  of  her  sex  will  be  your  representative,  faith 
ful  to  her  trust,  and  ready,  with  a  modest  helping  hand,  to  lead 
this  young  person  into  Ihe  paths  of  propriety. 

He  has  come  at  last,  but  the  bitter-sweet  of  hope  and  fear 
has  been  given  •  us  as  daily  food  for  two  weeks  past,  and  the 
wormwood  of  ceaseless  apprehension  took  the  place  of  the  yel 
low  berries,  and  nightshade  darkness  settled  down  upon  us. 
Lovely  young  girls  cried  over  their  ball-dresses  of  illusion,  and 
wondered  if  their  hopes  would  thin  off  into  the  same  slimpsy 
nothingness.  Middle-aged  ladies,  whose  hair  needs  no  powder, 
and  whose  teeth  never  ache,  began  to  falter  in  the  dancing  steps 


He  Has  Come.  43 

practised  in  the  private  recesses  of  their  own  palatial  homes, 
and  wondered  if  their  joints  were  to  be  twisted  and  racked  into 
new-born  graces,  only  to  settle  down  into  rusty  stiffness  again 
without  having  fascinated  the  Russian  soul  out  of  that  princely 
bosom. 

Of  course  it  is  right  and  proper  that  an  opportunity  to  study 
the  antiquities  of  a  nation  should  be  offered  to  every  potentate 
and  prince  that  honors  our  Republican  shores  by  setting  his 
high-born  foot  upon  them,  and  it  is  highly  proper  that  first- 
class  specimens  should  be  in  readiness  the  moment  he  enters  a 
ball-room.  That  is  what  people  tell  me  has  always  been  the 
custom  at  balls  given  to  princes,  and  it  isn't  likely  that  new 
rules  are  to  be  laid  down  for  the  benefit  of  a  lot  of  girls,  any 
how.  Governors  and  mayors  are  not  often  so  young  as  they 
have  been.  As  a  general  thing,  their  wives  are  not  troubled 
with  an  epidemic  of  youth  and  beauty.  It  is  an  awful  omis 
sion  in  the  laws,  but  these  dignified  chaps  can't  get  up  young 
and  dashing  wives  for  the  occasion,  when  a  great  high  poten 
tate  from  over  seas  shines  down  upon  us  in  the  dancing  way. 
I  haven't  a  doubt  they  would  like  to  sacrifice  themselves  and 
astonish  the  world  by  so  doing,  but  common  people  would  be 
apt  to  call  it  bigamy.  So  they  have  to  do  the  very  best  they 
can  with  such  wives  as  they  have  got,  and  furbish  them  up  with 
diamonds,  laces,  flounces,  and  a  dancing-master,  till  they  answer 
to  begin  with. 

I  don't  mean  to  be  hard  or  sarcastical  on  this  subject,  but  in 
these  times,  when  it  is  so  easy  for  a  man  to  put  away  his  wife, 
couldn't  this  official  potentate  get  a  temporary  divorce  just 
for  the  occasion,  especially  if  the  kingly  visitor  happens  to  be 
young  and  very  fond  of  dancing.  It  would  give  us  young  girls 
a  chance. 

Don't  think  that  I  am  putting  on  airs,  or  that  I  don't  feel 
reverential  when  age  is  mentioned,  but  Emperors'"  sons  don't 
come  to  our  free  land  of  liberty  every  day,  and  girls  are  so 
plenty  that  old  folks  ought  to  stand  back.  Far  be  it  from 
Phcemie  Frost,  on  her  own  humble  merits,  to  build  upon  open- 


44  He  Has  Come. 

ing  that  ball  with  the  Imperial  Duke  of  all  the  Russias ;  but  a 
Society  like  ours  has  its  social,  moral,  and  scientific  claims. 
As  for  literature,  since  my  reports  have  been  honored  by  pub 
lication,  I  must  maintain  the  dignity  of  the  position.  If  dig 
nity  and  age  is  to  lead  in  this  grand  ceremonial,  I  have  kept 
school,  and — well,  yes — no,  one  could  say  that  I — in  fact,  as 
to  years,  am  I  not  competent  to  open  the  ball  with  any  prince 
that  can  come  across  the  ocean,  be  he  boy  or  patriarch  ?  There, 
that  sentence  is  off  my  mind,  and  I  can  go  on  without  a  hitch 
of  the  pen. 

In  other  respects  I  have  been  silently  but  surely  preparing 
myself.  The  Society  has  been  liberal,  and  most  of  my  savings 
were  in  the  bank,  rolling  up  interest  beautifully,  when  I  came 
from  my  childhood's  home.  Then  there  was  a  handsome  profit 
011  the  donation  of  eggs  and  butter  and  maple-sugar  which  came 
in  the  freight  train  before  I  started.  I  attended  to  the  sale 
myself  at  the  market,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  Mr. 
Middleman  people  talk  so  awfully  about  as  a  cheat  and  a  gen 
eral  grabber.  Well,  I  dickered  the  things  off  at  a  good  price, 
as  I  was  a-saying,  and  have  got  the  money  safe  in  my  bosom — 
a  hiding-place  sacred  to  myself  alone. 

Thus  lifted  above  all  mercenary  anxieties,  I  gave  my  atten 
tion  entirely  to  the  self-improvement  necessary  to  my  appear 
ance  before  his  highness  as  a  representative  character  on  whom 
the  eyes  of  all  Sprucehill  were  fixed.  I  would  say  the  world — 
only  for  the  modest  consciousness  that  comes  over  me  when  I 
think  of  myself  as  a  genius. 


The  French  Dress-maker.  45 


VII. 

THE    FRENCH   DRESS-MAKER. 

ILPACA  does  make  a  first-class  dress  for  our  social 
gatherings  and  literary  circles  in  Sprucehill,  and  when 
puffed  out  behind,  and  trimmed  promiscuously  with 
flutings,  it  sometimes  has  a  sumptuous  appearance  elsewhere ; 
but  for  a  ball,  in  which  one  aims  to  dance  with  a  great  grand 
Archduke  of  all  the  Russias — excuse  me  for  saying  it?  but 
alpaca  is  not  quite  the  thing.  Doubtful  of  my  own  imperfect 
judgment,  I  asked  a  fashionable  dress-maker  in  the  Third  Ave 
nue,  who  had  "  Madame  "  spelt  with  an  E  on  her  tin  sign  at 
the  door,  and  she  said :  "It  wasn't  the  thing  for  a  lady  en 
tirely,  by  no  manner  of  means,"  and  her  tongue  had  a  rich  roll 
to  it,  which  satisfied  me  that  Ireland  had  sympathized  with 
France  in  her  troubles,  to  the  extent  of  getting  the  language  a 
little  mixed. 

"  No,"  says  she,  a  leaning  both  elbows  on  her  counter,  and  a 
looking  at  me  from  head  to  foot.  "  Madame  should  have  a  role 
de  silk,  very  complete,  with  flowers  in  her  hair  entirely,  and 
an  overskirt  to  the  fore,  garnitured  with  Limerick  point." 

"  An  overskirt  before,"  says  I,  lifting  both  hands,  satchel 
and  all.  ((  Why,  every  skirt  that  I've  seen  in  the  street,  or 
anywhere  else,  was  puckered  and  bunched  up  behind,"  says  I. 
."  Excuse  me,  but  I  really  couldn't  think  of  wearing  'em  in  any 
other  way." 

The  French  dress-maker — I  know  she  was  French  by  the  let 
ter  E  after  Madam,  and  because  the  sign  said  she  was  from  Paris. 
Well,  she  colored  up,  and  looked  every  which  way  at  first,  but 
then  she  gave  a  skimping  laugh,  and  said  that  I  didn't  under 
stand  French.  I — I  didn't  understand  French  !  I  who  had 
studied  "  French  without  a  Master  "  as  a  speciality,  with  the 
most  intelligent  member  of  our  circle,  and  conversed  in  the 
language  as  directed  by  that  excellent  book  so  fluently  that  the 


46  The  French  Dress-maker. 

pronunciation  sounded  almost  like  English  nipped  off  a  little  ! 
This  was  too  much. 

The  clear  grit,  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  every  New  Eng 
land  woman's  heart,  riled  up  in  mine  when  that  cherished 
accomplishment  was  cast  into  disrepute. 

"  Madame,"  says  I,  putting  a  keen  emphasis  on  that  E,  "  I 
came  here  to  inquire  about  the  most  fashionable  way  of  mak 
ing  a  dress,  not  to  give  or  take  a  lesson  in  the  languages.  Per 
mit  me  to  say  I  never  could  submit  to  wear  an  overskirt  in  the 
way  you  speak  of — wrong  side  before — why,  it  would  look  dread 
fully." 

"  But  Madame  does  not  understand ;  I  speak  English  so 
much  in  this  country  that  my  own  language  gets  knocked  into 
smithereens.  I  bog  pardon — into  confusion.  Madame  must 
be  very  perfect  herself  to  detect  it." 

I  felt  a  smile  creeping  over  my  lips.  Really,  sisters,  I  had 
been  too  hard  on  the  poor  woman.  It  was  not  her  fault  if  my 
ear  was  so  very  correct  that  nothing  but  the  purest  accent  could 
satisfy  me.  She  saw  this  look  dawning  upon  my  face,  and  I 
knew  that  she  felt  relieved  by  the  way  her  elbows  settled  down 
on  the  counter  again. 

"If  madame  will  take  a  chair — that  is,  repose  herself. 
Madame — " 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  I,  benignly,  for  I  didn't  want  to  hurt 
her  feelings  again.  "  Mademoiselle ,  if  you  please." 

"  Pardon  me,"  says  she,  humbly. 

"Just  so,"  says  I,  benignly.  "Now  supposing  we  go  on 
about  this  ball-dress.  How  much  silk  will  it  take  ?  " 

The  woman  sat  and  thought  to  herself  ever  so  long.  Then 
she  counted  her  fingers  over  once  or  twice.  Then  she  said  she 
didn't  exactly  know  how  much,  which  is  the  way  with  dress 
makers  all  over  the  world,  I  do  believe. 

"  But  one  won't  buy  a  dress  without  knowing  how  much  to 
ask  for,"  says  I.  "  Say  twelve  yards  now  ?  " 

The  woman  lifted  herself  right  off  from  the  counter,  and  sat 
staring  at  me. 


The  French  Dress-maker.  47 

"  Twelve  !  "  says  she,  "  eighteen  at  the  least." 

I  felt  as  if  some  one  had  struck  me.  Eighteen  yards  for  a 
dress,  and  gored  all  to  pieces  at  that ! 

"  Some  of  your  dress-makers  in  Broadway  would  want  more 
than  that !  "  says  she,  "  and  send  for  more  and  more  affcer^that." 

I  made  no  answer,  but  took  up  my  satchel  and  walked  straight 
out  of  the  door. 

Eighteen  yards  of  silk  for  a  dress !  The  thought  of  it  kept 
me  awake  all  night. 

The  next  morning  I  went  right  up  to  the  palatial  residence 
of  my  cousin,  Emily  Elizabeth  Dempster,  feeling  that  she  would 
expect  me  to  enter  on  that  subject  about  bringing  up  children, 
which  was  my  duty ;  but  I  was  so  down  in  the  mouth  about 
that  dress,  that  everything  like  a  moral  idea  had  just  swamped 
itself  in  those  eighteen  yards  of  silk  ;  and  instead  of  giving  ad 
vice,  I  went  into  that  house  to  beg  for  it,  feeling  all  the  time 
as  if  somebody  had  dumped  me  down  from  a  mighty  high  horse 
onto  that  stone  doorstep,  and  left  me  to  travel  home  afoot.  In 
fact,  I  felt  as  if  coming  to  that  house  to  ask  about  ball-dresses, 
instead  of  giving  instruction,  was  a  mean  sort  of  business.  But 
the  ambition  of  a  great,  worldly  idea  was  burning  in  my  bosom, 
and  I  resolved  to  press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the  prize  of  the 
high  calling. 

-  Mercy  011  me !  it  is  a  ball-dress,  not  a  class-meeting,  that  I 
am  writing  about.  Oh,  my  sisters  !  is  it  true  that  black  angels 
and  white  angels  ever  do  get  to  fighting  in  a  human  soul,  just  as 
they  do  down  South  ?  If  so,  they  had  a  tussle  in  my  bosom  that 
morning,  and  the  black  fellow  came  out  best,  with  a  gorgeous 
silk  dress  a-floating  and  a-rustling  out  from  his  triumphant 
right  hand,  and  the  splendid  shadow  of  a  great  Grand  Duke 
following  after. 

Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  was  just  coming  downstairs,  flounced 
and  puffed  and  tucked  up  about  the  waist,  till  she  was  all  over 
in  a  flutter  of  silk,  and  lace,  and  black  beads,  with  a  dashing 
bonnet  on  her  head  high  enough  for  a  trooper's  training-cap, 
all  shivery  with  lace  and  bows,  with  one  long  feather  curling 


48  The  Genuine  Madame. 

half  way  round  it,  and  a  white  tuft  sticking  up  straight  on  the 
top,  looking  so  'cute  and  saucy. 

Emily  Elizabeth  looked  a  little  scared  when  she  saw  me  com 
ing  in  with  my  satchel ;  but  when  I  told  her  what  I  wanted, 
her  eyes  brightened  up,  and  she  laughed  as  easy  as  a  blackbird 
sings.  "  Oh,  is  that  all!  "  says  she.  "  I  thought  it  was  about 
the  children.  I'll  give  you  a  note  to  my  dress-maker.  Styles 
all  French,  and  so  recherche."  Look  in  the  dictionary,  sisters, 
and  you  will  discover  that  this  means  something  first-class. 

She  took  out  a  pencil  and  a  square  piece  of  paper  with  her 
name  printed  on  it,  and  wrote  something  French,  with  the  num 
ber  of  a  house,  which  I  won't  give,  not  wanting  any  of  my 
friends  to  be  talked  out  of  a  year's  growth,  as  I  was. 

"  There,"  says  she.  "  The  cream-on-cream  all  go  to  her. 
She'll  fit  you  out  splendidly.  Leave  it  all  to  her.  Good-morn 
ing,  cousin ;  I  must  go  ;  but  my  daughter  is  in  the  drawing- 
room — she  will  entertain  you." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I,  putting  the  card  in  my  satchel,  and  mak 
ing  swift  tracks  for  the  out-door ;  "  but  I  haven't  time  to  be 
entertained." 


VIII. 

THE    GENUINE    MADAME. 

JELL,  I  went  straight  down  to  that  dress-maker's  house? 
and  handed  the  square  paper  cousin  had  written  on 
to  a  lady  who  was  fluttering  round  among  a  lot  of 
girls,  all  hard  at  work  sewing,  like  bumble-bees  in  a  rose-bush. 
She  looked  at  the  paper ;  then  she  gave  my  alpaca  dress  an 
overhauling  with  her  scornful  eyes.  Then  she  began  to  talk; 
but,  my  goodness,  her  French  was  awful.  I  couldn't  under 
stand  a  word  of  it.  Once  in  a  while  she  would  chuck  an  Eng 
lish  word  in,  and  rush  on  again  like  a  mill-dam. 


The  Genuine  Madame.  49 

When  I  tried  to  put  in  a  word  of  genuine  French  or  pure 
English,  she  lifted  her  hands,  hitched  up  her  shoulders,  and 
seemed  as  if  she  was  swearing  at  me  one  minute  and  wanted 
to  kiss  me  the  next.  I  couldn't  stand  that. 

fl  How  much  will  you  ask — how  many  yards  will  it  take. 
La  pre  la  pre  ?  "  says  I,  bursting  into  French. 

The  woman  looked  around  on  her  girls,  spread  her  hands  as 
if  praying  for  help,  and  then,  all  red  in  the  face,  she  burst  into 
English.  Then  I  knew  she  did  not  understand  her  own  native 
tpngue,  and  gave  her  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"  I  find  everything.  How  many  yards  ?  Oh,  that  depends 
on  the  idea,  the  invention.  I  have  it  here  growing  in  my 
brain.  The  price  ?  Ah,  I  cannot  tell.  When  the  work  is 
complete  then  we  know.  There  will  be  crepe  and  point — " 

"  But  I  don't  want  points,"  says  I.  "  Talk  in  English  if 
you  don't  understand  your  own  language.  The  price,  the 
price  !  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  it  shall  be  to  your  own  satisfaction — per 
fect,"  says  she,  and  then  the  creature  shook  out  her  hands  as 
if  she  was  shewing  chickens  from  a  corn-crib,  and  before  I 
could  say  another  word  she  shewed  me  on  to  the  steps  and  shut 
the  door. 

Well,  I  went  back  to  my  boarding-house,  beat  out  and  wor 
ried  almost  to  death.  Figures  are  satisfactory  to  the  New 
England  mind  ;  but  when  you  have  only  a  whirlpool  of  broken 
words,  ending  with  satisfaction,  with  a  woman's  hands  spread 
out  on  her  bosom,  and  nothing  more,  it  is  tantalizing.  But  I 
reckon  the  figures  will  come  by  and  by,  only  I  should  like  to 
have  an  idea  of  what  they  will  count  up  to. 

As  I  was  saying  in  the  beginning  of  my  report,  ten  thousand 
anxious  female  bosoms  thrilled  with  expectations  every  night, 
and  existence  dragged  wofully  in  literary  and  fashionable  cir 
cles  until  that  auspicious  moment  arrived  when  the  son  of  an 
Imperial  Emperor  cast  refulgence  on  our  Western  Hemisphere. 
But  the  waiting  of  us  young  girls  was  lonesome,  very. 

I  had  done  my  best.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  had 
3 


5o  The  Genuine  Madame. 

twisted  my  front  hair  into  little  wire  tongs  they  call  crimping- 
pins  ;  maybe  it  was  their  tightness  that  held  my  eyes  so  wide 
open  last  night.  I  was  trying  with  all  my  strength  to  shut 
theraj-when  the  sound  of  a  cannon,  ever  so  far  off,  brought  me 
up  in  the  bed,  with  my  hand  clasped  and  the  heart  in  my 
bosom  trembling  like  a  frightened  chicken. 

"  He  has  come,"  says  I  to  myself.  "  Alexis  has  come.  To 
morrow  we  shall  see  him — handsome,  young,  filled  with  Im 
perial  royalty  from  the  crown  of  his  noble  head  to  the  soles  of 
his  patent-leather  boots.  But  will  he  wear  his  crown  in  the 
procession,  or  only  keep  it  for  the  grand  ball.  What  if  he 
should  rest  that  crown  on  the  head  of  some  distinguished 
American,  selecting  a  literary  lady  ?  "  This  thought  impressed 
me  ;  both  hands  went  up  to  my  lofty  brow.  Alas  !  they  only 
sent  the  crimping-pins  ploughing  across  my  head  with  a  thorny 
sharpness  that  filled  my  throat  with  screeches. 

My  dress  has  come  home — I  am  stunned  : 

Thirty  yards  of  silk,  $10  per  yard $300.00 

One  piece  French  crape 25 .00 

Ten  yards  Brussels  point 100.00 

Linings 10-°° 

Making 50.00 

Materials 35-°° 

Silk  buttons 13-°° 

Passementerie,  etc 15.50 

$547.50 

I  have  just  recovered  from  a  long  fainting  fit.  They  have 
taken  the  crimping-pins  out  of  my  hair  and  deluged  it  with 
crystal  water.  I  am  lying  on  my  couch  faint  and  exhausted. 
Oh,  my  sisters,  the  paths  of  royalty  are  beautiful,  but  full  of 
thorns.  That  bill  has  been  enough  to  destroy  all  my  pleasure 
in  the  visit  of  ths  Grand  Duke  Alexis. 


Ready  to  Land.  5 1 


IX. 

HEADY   TO   LAND. 

]HE  great  Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Russias  has  been 
thrown  upon  our  shore  by  an  upheaving  of  the  mighty 
deep,  and  is  now  rocking  at  his  ease  in  the  iron-clad 
cradle  of  a  great  nation.  Oh,  he  had  a  terrible  time.  Winds 
tossed  him,  storms  pitched  that  noble  vessel  end  foremost  into 
the  very  bowels  of  the  sea,  then  hove  it  up  on  great  mountain 
waves,  where  it  rocked  and  tottered  and  trembled,  while  the 
rain  washed  its  decks — rendering  mops  useless — and  the  light 
ning  got  so  tangled  in  the  spars  and  rigging  that  you  couldn't 
tell  which  was  rope  and  which  was  fire. 

Out  of  all  this  danger  the  great  Grand  Duke  was  blown  upon 
our  shore,  with  a  good  deal  less  fuss  than  Jonah  had  when  he 
took  to  his  life-boat  with  fins  and  tail,  and  discharged  cargo  on 
a  desert  shore,  without  the  first  chance  of  an  imperial  reception, 
and  nothing  but  an  upstart  guard  to  offer  him  the  hospitalities 
of  the  country. 

Before  daylight,  Sunday  morning,  the  vessel  which  bore  that 
noble  youth,  all  weather-beaten  as  a  rusty  potash  kettle,  but 
grand  and  majestic  after  its  tussle  with  the  storms,  shot  out  her 
anchor  in  the  lower  bay — for  New  York  has  two  bays,  and  two 
fine  old  rivers  empty  into  them.  The  squadron — which  means 
three  or  /our  other  ships  from  Russia — had  been  waiting  there 
till  their  great  iron  hearts  nearly  burst  with  fear  that  the  im 
perial  vessel  had  foundered  ;  and  when  they  saw  it  careering  in 
amongst  'em,  they  set  up  a  shout  that  made  the  very  fishes  in 
the  bay  rest  on  their  fins  and  wonder  what  it  could  mean,  for 
they  had  never  heard  Russians  before,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
alphabet  had  been  shaken  ten  thousand  times  over  from  as 
many  pepper-boxes,  and  rained  down  on  the  water  in  one  great 
shout. 

Nobody  has  told  me  yet  how  his  imperial  dukeship  took  this, 


52  Ready  to  Land. 

and  I  haven't  liked  to  inquire  too  closely.  Supposing  him  asleep 
in  the  sweet  privacy  of  his  own  upper  berth,  it  wouldn't  be 
quite  proper,  you  know,  but  it  must  have  been  soul-stirring  to 
hear  those  native  syllables  raining  down  blessings  like  tacks 
and  brad-awls  on  his  noble  head. 

How  our  imperial  guest  spent  the  Sabbath-day  is  a  mystery 
that  Russia  and  the  Russians  only  can  solve.  But  I  am  credi 
bly  informed  that  ten  thousand  upper-crust  females  betook 
themselves  to  secret  devotions  in  their  own  rooms,  in 
crimping-pins  and  curl  papers,  the  moment  we  got  news  that 
he  was  here. 

As  for  myself,  I  confess — no,  our  Society  is  not  a  confes 
sional,  and  the  secrets  of  a  lady's  get-up  don't  belong  to  a  re 
port  for  the  public  eye.  So  I  say  nothing  on  that  point. 

Sunday  night  I  couldn't  sleep  a  wink  ;  my  heart  was  full 
of  noble  aspirations,  and  it  seemed  as  if  some  wild  Indian 
of  the  forest  had  got  his  grip  in  my  hair  and  might  scalp  me 
any  minute,  everything  was  twisted  so  tight  in  that  direction. 
In  fact,  to  say  nothing  of  sleeping,  I  couldn't  have  winked  to 
save  my  life.  But  I  bore  it  with  Christian  fortitude,  deter 
mined  to  press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the  prize.  Oh,  dear  !  will 
I  ever  remember  that  this  report  isn't  a  class-meeting  confes 
sion  ?  Well,  the  morning  came,  and  oh,  my  sisters,  it  was 
pouring  cats  and  dogs.  When  I  heard  this,  I  rose  up  in  bed, 
covered  my  face  with  both  hands,  and  just  boo-hooed  out  a 
crying.  I  knew  well  enough  that  ten  thousand  other  young 
girls  were  weeping  like  the  skies ;  but  that  only  made  me  feel 
worse  and  worse,  for  mine  has  always  been  a  sympathetic 
heart,  and  I  felt  for  them — I  did  indeed. 

I  did  not  know  what  on  earth  to  do.  Cousin  Emily  Eliza 
beth  Dempster  had  promised  to  come  and  take  me  down  to  the 
Mary  Powell,  a  steamboat  which  the  committee  had  engaged 
to  take  itself  and  all  its  wives  and  their  friends,  down  to  wel 
come  the  great  Grand  Duke,  and  bring  him  up  to  the  city. 

Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth's  husband  was  a  head  cockalorum  in 
this  committee,  which  being  the  creme  on  creme — excuse  French, 


Ready  to  Land.  53 

it  will  break  in  somehow  in  spite  of  me — well,  which  being  the 
creme  on  cr&me  that  had  skimmed  itself  off  from  all  the  com 
mon  milk  of  New  York  society,  puffed  Cousin  E.  E.  up  like — 
like  a  ripe  button-ball. 

Since  my  reports  have  appeared  in  what  the  newspapers  call 
the  world  of  letters — I  say  it  modestly,  but  truth  is  truth — 
Cousin  E.  E.  has  been  sweet  as  maple-sugar  to  me,  I  can  tell 
you.  She  had  her  eye  teeth  cut  in  Vermont,  and  understood 
that  Queen  Victoria  knew  there  was  one  notch  above  the 
crown  when  she  took  to  writing  books.  I  say  nothing ;  but 
there  is  an  aristocracy  that  cuts  its  own  way  through  all  social 
flummery,  like  an  eagle  among  chippen  birds.  That  is  real  live 
genius ;  and  if  New  England  hasn't  got  her  share  of  that,  I 
don't  know  where  its  head-quarters  are. 

Well,  I  and  the  clouds  shed  tears  together  for  a  good  while ; 
then  I  started  up.  "  What  if  it  does  pour  ?  "  says  I  to  my 
self ;  "  the  Grand  Duke  has  been  in  storms  before  this ;  he  ain't 
sugar  nor  salt,  to  melt  at  anything  less  than  the  glance  of  a 
loving  eye.  What's  the  good  of  being  down  in  the  mouth 
about  a  little  rain  ?  I'll  get  up — I'll  unskewer  my  hair — I'll 
put  on  that  dress,  if  I  die  for  it."  I  started  out  of  bed ;  I 
stood  before  the  looking-glass ;  I  began  to  untwist,  to  unroll ; 
I  did  the  corkscrew  movement ;  I  jerked — I  shook  my  hair 
out — ripple,  ripple,  ripple,  it  fell  over  my  shoulders.  Then  I 
rested  awhile,  and  winked  my  eyes  with  exquisite  satisfaction — 
for  freedom  is  sweet  both  to  the  head  and  heart. 

I  felt  like  a  new  creature — a  delicious  looseness  settled  on 
my  temples — a  feeling  of  feminine  triumph  swelled  my  soul. 
Could  he  resist  the  fleecy  softness  of  that  hair — the  thousand 
ripples  breaking  up  the  sunshine — only  there  wasn't  any  sun 
shine  to  break.  Not  a  silver  thread  was  visible ;  if  there  had 
been  several  the  night  before,  it  was  nobody's  business  but  my 
own.  My  arms  were  tired  with  continual  undoing  ;  but,  sisters, 
am  I  one  to  faint  by  the  way  ?  No,  no,  a  thousand  times  no. 

I  began  to  roll,  to  braid,  to  puff;  I  planted  hair-pins  in  my 
head  as  thick  as  bean-poles  in  a  garden.  Heavy  braids — ex- 


54  Down  the  Bay. 

pensive  but  lovely — fell  down  the  back  of  my  head ;  fluff  on 
fluff  shaded  my  lofty  forehead.  I  say  nothing  ;  but  my  literary 
success,  great  as  it  is,  has  not  been  more  satisfactory  than  this. 

I  put  on  that  dress  in  a  great  hurry,  for  Cousin  E.  E.  was  at 
the  door  in  her  carriage.  How  it  glistened  in  the  glass  !  How 
it  swept  out  on  the  carpet,  a  peacock's  tail  is  a  trifle  compared 
to  it !  I  tucked  it  up  ;  I  turned  the  lining  inside  out,  pinned 
it,  puckered  it  round  the  waist,  and  then  put  on  my  new  bon 
net,  which  looked  like  a  black  beeshive  with  a  bird  perched  on 
the  top.  Then,  with  a  burning  heart,  that  fairly  turned  against 
it,  I  put  on  my  waterproof  cloak  and  pulled  the  hood  over  my 
poor  bonnet. 

I  opened  my  cotton  umbrella,  and  went  down.  Cousin  E. 
E.  was  waiting,  and  a  tall  fellow  in  half  regimentals  held  the 
door  open.  I  jumped  in  as  spry  as  a  cricket,  and  away  we 
went. 


X. 

DOWN   THE   BAY. 

|  HE  Mary  Powell  lay  huddled  up  close  to  the  wharf, 
with  a  great  white  flag  crossed  with  blue  stripes  at 
one  end,  and  the  glorious  old  star-spangled  banner 
at  the  other.  In  fact,  she  was  all  dressed  out  in  flags.  They 
were  soaked  through  and  through  till  their  slimpsiness  was  dis 
tressing.  In  fact,  the  steamboat  looked  like  a  draggled  rooster 
with  no  fence  or  cart  to  hide  under. 

The  committee  were  all  there,  with  a  whole  swarm  of  ladies 
in  waterproof  cloaks,  huddled  together  like  chickens  in  a  coop. 
There  were  generals,  too,  with  gold  epaulets  on  their  shoulders : 
one  that  I'd  heard  of  in  the  war,  General  McDowell,  and  some 
others,  that  lighted  up  the  deck  a  little  with  their  gold  lace  and 
sword-handles. 


Down  the  Bay.  55 

She  moved — I  mean  the  Mary  Powell.  The  sea  was  gray, 
the  sky  was  black.  Now  and  then  I  saw  a  flag  fluttering  by 
011  some  vessel,  like  a  poor  frightened  bird  searching  for  shelter, 
and  pitied  it.  Then  all  at  once  bang  went  a  gun.  I  hopped 
right  up,  and  screamed  out : 

"What's  that?" 

"  The  salute,"  says  a  gentleman  close  by  me.  "  A  salute  for 
the  Grand  Duke." 

I  sat  down  astonished. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  ft  I  can't  believe  it.  I — I've  been  saluted 
myself  before  this,  and  I  know  what  it  is.  No  human  lips 
could  have  made  that  noise." 

The  man  looked  at  me,  and  puckered  up  his  lips  a  trifle,  as 
if  he  were  trying  to  choke  back  a  laugh. 

"I'm  speaking  of  guns,"  says  he,  "not  the  sweet  little  salutes 
in  your  mind." 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "  that  makes  a  difference,  though  I  never 
heard  firing  off  guns  by  that  name  before." 

"  The  Grand  Duke  will  have  twenty -two  of  'em,"  says  he. 

<c  Well,  then,  I'm  glad  it's  only  the  guns,"  says  I,  and  a  great 
big  sigh  of  relief  came  up  from  my  jealous  bosom. 

Then  we  all  went  on  again,  till  I  heard  some  one  call  out 
that  we'd  got  to  heave-to.  This  scared  me  dreadfully.  I 
looked  around.  Which  two  of  all  these  females  did  they  mean 
to  heave  into  the  vasty  deep  ?  Not  me  for  one.  If  Russia 
is  barbarous  enough  to  want  that  sort  of  cannibal  hospitality, 
I'm  counted  out. 

Shivering  with  fear,  I  drew  back  into  the  crowd,  but  watched 
things  like  a  cat.  Drifting  through  the  fog,  I  saw  a  little 
vessel  coming  close  to  us,  as  if  she  had  something  to  do  with 
this  heathen  ceremony.  The  ladies  in  their  waterproofs  crowded 
to  the  side  of  the  steamboat,  as  if  they  rather  panted  for  the 
glory  of  being  drowned  then  and  there  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
great  Grand  Duke. 

I  heard  a  splash,  but  could  not  see  if  any  one  had  been  flung 
over,  and  when  I  got  up  to  look,  there  was  a  magnificent  old 


56  Down  the  Bay. 

fellow,  with,  ribbons  in  his  coat  and  brooches  set  thick  with 
shining  stones  on  his  bosom,  a-coming  up  the  side  of  the  boat. 
He  looks  so  proud  and  puffy,  that  I  should  have  took  him  for 
the  great  Grand  Duke,  only  that  he  wasn't  near  young  enough. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  says  I  to  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Catacazy,"  says  he. 

"  Cat — what  ?  "  says  I,  categorically. 

"  Catacazy,  the  Russian  Minister,"  says  he. 
*  " Minister,"  says  I;  "do  they  mean  to   get   up  a  prayer- 
meeting  on  board  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  simmered  down  the  laugh  that  was  on  his 
lips  into  a  smile,  and  said  he  thought  not. 

This  pacified  me,  and  I  sat  still  while  we  went  down  through 
the  upper  bay,  which  seemed  wrapped  in  waterproofs  too,  and 
into  the  lower  bay,  which  heaved  and  rolled  as  if  it  was  half- 
choked  up  with  sweltering  wet  blankets.  Then  we  came  in 
sight  of  the  ships,  and  saw  the  flags  a-battling  with  the  storm ; 
but  no  one  on  board  seemed  to  care  a  continental  cent  whether 
New  York  sent  out  her  creme  on  creme  or  not.  This  silence 
mad®  my  heart  sink. 

Then  the  minister  went  to  the  side  of  the  vessel,  leaned  over, 
and  swung  his  hat.  By  and  by  a  boat  came  from  the  great 
Grand  Duke's  vessel,  in  which  an  imperial-looking  man  stood 
upright,  like  a  high-born  monarch,  and  lifted  his  cap  as  if  it 
had  been  a  crown. 

"  It  is — it  is — oh,  yes,  it  is  the  Duke !  " 

This  was  on  every  lip  but  mine.  I  could  not  -speak ;  ex 
quisite  emotion  forbade  it. 

No  one  came  on  board ;  but  the  minister  with  that  catish 
name  got  into  the  boat,  and  then  some  of  the  committee,  which 
skimmed  itself  again,  and  thickened  up  its  cream  considerably. 

There  we  waited  and  waited. 

They  came  back  at  last.  That  young  gentleman  was  not  the 
great  Grand  Duke.  He  wasn't  coming  till  next  day. 

Oh,  how  we  wilted !  Some  of  us  almost  burst  out  a-crying. 
I  did  not  speak ;  I  could  not.  Ever  since  we  reached  the  lower 


The  Grand  Duke.  57 

bay,  I  had  felt  dreadfully  discouraged ;  now  a  strange  sinking 
of  the  heart  seized  upon  me — a  faint  dizziness,  an  agony  of  dis 
appointment  seemed  raging  in  my  stomach.  Oh,  my  sisters! 
these  exquisite  sensibilities  are  a  proof  of  greatness,  I  know, 
but  the  sufferings  they  bring,  no  human  being  but  the  creature 
of  genius  can  tell. 

I  am  better.  The  glorious  sight  which  followed  that  stormy 
day  has  relieved  me.  I  have  seen  ten  thousand  nags  blazing 
along  Broadway — I  have  seen  three  times  ten  thousand  repub 
lican  worshippers  waving  their  hats  and  handkerchiefs  in  accla 
mations  for  the  son  of  an  imperial  despot.  I  have  heard  the 
glorious  music  of  an  imperial  serenade — I  have  seen  HIM. 


XI. 

THE    GRAND    DUKE. 


IISTERS:— I  have  seen  him.  This  hand  has  been 
pressed — significantly  pressed — by  the  soft,  rosy  palm 
of  imperial  royalty.  If  a  tablet  to  my  memory 
should  ever  be  sunk  in  the  walls  of  our  meeting-house,  I  charge 
you,  dear  sisters  in  the  cause,  to  have  this  honor  cut  in  Roman 
capitals  deep  into  the  marble ;  for  what  is  an  exaltation  to  me 
is  glory  to  the  Society,  and,  in  fact,  to  all  Vermont. 

I  have  been  on  the  same  steamboat  with  the  great  Grand 
Duke ;  his  splendid  blue  eyes  have  looked  into  mine,  and  in 
that  glance  we  grappled  each  other,  soul  to  soul.  He  has 
smiled  upon  me  through  the  yellow  glory  of  that  silky  mus 
tache,  under  which  his  plump,  red  lips  shone  like  cherries,  ripe 
enough  to  swallow,  stones  and  all.  He  speaks  English ;  re 
veres  genius,  and  knows  that  it  can  never  grow  old. 

I  saw  him  in  Broadway,  when  all   the   New  York  militia 
turned  out,  which  was  a  training  day  worth  looking  at.     A 
8* 


58  The  Grand  Duke. 

snow-storm  of  handkerchiefs  burst  out  of  the  windows  ;  ten 
thousand  female  hands  waved  him  forward.  Shouts  rose  from 
the  multitude;  little  children  were  crowded  back  into  the 
gutters  ;  women  were  jammed  together  on  doorsteps  and  curb 
stones.  In  fact,  the  skim  milk  of  society  was  compelled  to 
flow  in  awful  narrow  channels,  while  the  creme  on  creme — ex 
cuse  French  once  more — rolled  smoothly  through  the  city  in 
carriages,  with  royalty  leading  the  way,  a  regiment  of  trainers 
leading  him,  and  a  band  of  music  leading  the  whole.. 

I  saw  the  whole  glorious  procession.  From  block  to  block 
I  flitted,  like  some  aspiring  bird  on  the  crest  of  a  wave.  My 
heart  was  full,  my  eyes  fixed  on  one  object — that  tall,  noble 
figure,  with  a  blue  watered  silk  scarf  across  his  royal  bosom, 
and  a  half-moon  hat,  with  dipping  points,  gracefully  lifted  from 
his  head.  He  must  have  been  dazzled ;  he  must  have  been 
impressed  by  this  proof  that  republics  scorn  monarchies  and 
trample  them  under  foot. 

I  flitted  onward  through  the  crowd,  waving  my  handkerchief 
from  a  doorstep  now  and  then.  That  handkerchief  the  idol 
of  this  august  occasion  seemed  to  follow  eagerly  with  his  eyes, 
as  a  sort  of  beacon  light  which  kindred  sympathy  impelled 
him  to  recognize,  for  wherever  I  went  he  lifted  that  half-moon 
hat  from  his  royal  brow  and  smiled.  I  felt  this  compliment 
to  the  depths  of  my  soul — it  thrilled  me. 

"When  I  lifted  myself  out  of  the  skim  milk,  and  flowed  in 
with  the  cream  of  cream  on  that  stand  in  Union  Square  with 
my  cousin  and  the  elite  of  society,  he  saw  me  again  and  recog 
nized  me  once  more,  which  irritated  my  cousin's  jealousy  a 
little,  for  she  insisted  that  he  lifted  his  black  half-moon  to  the 
whole  of  us.  But  I  know  ! 

I  watched  the  carriage  that  bore  him  with  a  blushing  cheek 
and  a  beating  heart.  There  was  General  Dix,  a  real  nice- 
looking  old  gentleman,  sitting  in  front  of  him ;  there  was  Cat- 
acazy,  the  ambassador  of  all  Russia,  also  a  nice  gentleman  as 
you  want  to  see,  with  his  hat  off,  a-bowing  and  a-bowing.  We 
flung  up  our  handkerchiefs — we  clapped  our  hands. 


The  Grand  Duke.  59 

The  Clarendon  Hotel  stands  near  one  corner  of  the  Union 
Square;  it  has  a  skimpy  piazza  in  front  made  of  iron  a, 
I've  seen  bigger  hotels  anyhow.     But  it  is  considered  Up-top 
and  is  always  brimming  over  with  the  cream  of  cream, 
is  why  Mr.  Catacazy  took  my  Grand  Duke  there.     There  was 
such  a  crowd  of  folks  and  trainers  that  I  lost  sight  o 
By  and  by  out  he  came  into  the  piazza,  and  stood  right  befc 
our  aristocratic  stand,  which  was  fringed  round  with  red  clota, 
and  over  which  the  star-spangled  banner  waved  itself  meekly  t 
the  nest  of  black  eagles  that  streamed  out  over  that  noble  sci 
of  all  the  Russias. 

I  could  not  see  him  plainly,  as  my  heart  panted  to,  so  I 
rowed  my  cousin's  glass-a  little  spy-glass,  understand^ 
specs,  which  I  haven't  come  to  by  a  long  way.     Well,  I 
screwed  the  e'ye-glass,  wound  it  up  to  the  right  notch,  and 
brought  him  almost  to  my  face  ;  and  there  I  stood,  choke-full 
of  heavenly  satisfaction,  all  the  while  he  looked  down  on  t 
general  training  of  soldiers  "that  marched  stream  on  str 
between  him  and  me. 

While   my  soul  was  going  out  luminously  through  these 
eyes,  Cousin  Emma  Elizabeth  Dempster  touched  my  elbow,  ar 

says  she  :  T    .      , , 

«  Miss  Frost,  if  you've  got  through  with  my  glass,  I  sh< 

like  to  try  it  a  little." 

I  gave  it  up.     Not  being  long-sighted,  the  whole  pageant 

was  a  blank  to  me  after  that  cruel  deprivation,  for  I  could 

longer  see  that  imperial  figure  on  the  piazza. 

My  reports  are  making  a  tremendous  sensation,  and  J    -well, 

bein"  modest    by  nature,   I    say  nothing,  but    a   commit* 
skimmed  daintily  off  from  the  cream  of  cream,  called  at  : 
boarding-house,  and  wanted  me,  as  a  rising  star  in  the  literary 
hemisphere  of  writers,  to  invite   the   great  Grand  Duke 
private  reception,  or  entertainment,  or  something,  where 
that  hadn't  been  on  the   steamboat    could  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  others  might  just  touch  the  extremity  of  his  coat, 


60  Tickets  for  the  Ball. 

which  they  gave  me  their  honor  they  wouldn't  pull — as  some 
high-bred  ladies  did  when  he  was  going  from  the  boat. 

I  received  this  committee  with  dignity,  and  promised  to  take 
their  request  into  mature  consideration,  as  soon  as  I  could 
learn  personally  from  the  great  Grand  Duke  whether  he  should 
prefer  to  have  this  homage  paid  by  my  own  sex  to  the  extrem 
ities  of  his  coat,  or  not.  I  felt  for  these  young  ladies.  I  had 
experienced  the  yearning  desire  that  possessed  them,  and  knew 
how  truly  irrepressible  it  was.  Had  it  not  inspired  the  whole 
committee  of  reception,  their  wives,  and  their  children  to  the 
third  generation  ?  Had  it  not  disturbed  fashionable  life  to  its 
very  dregs,  and  given  spice  to  our  weekly  literature  ?  Yes,  I 
felt  for  these  young  persons,  and  in  a  little  speech,  remarkable 
for  its  graceful  elocution,  gave  them  encouragement. 


XII. 

TICKETS   FOR   THE    BALL. 

|ICKETS  for  the  ball!  Sent,  no  doubt,  at  the  Grand 
Duke's  request.  Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  has  got 
tickets  too.  We  shall  go  together  in  the  same  car 
riage,  and  leaning  on  her  husband's  arm.  Dempster  is  a  haiid- 
sorne  man,  and  really  distingue  looking.  Excuse  French ;  an 
educated  person  will  break  into  it  now  and  then. 

The  day  has  come.  Cousin  Emily  has  just  sent  me  a  bundle 
of  things,  with  her  compliments — a  little  box  with  a  cake  of 
lovely  white  chalk  in  it ;  another,  smaller  yet,  filled  with  a 
pink  powder  that  looks  like  ground  rose-leaves,  and  a  bottle 
witii  something  liquid  and  dark  in  it,  which  does  not  seem  as 
if  it  was  good  to  drink.  "What  on  earth  does  Cousin  E.  E. 
expect  me  to  do  with  these  things  ? 

Ah !  pinned  to  the  bundle,  I  find  a  letter,  beginning  "  Dear 


Tickets  for  the  Ball.  61 

Cousin  Phcemie,"  and  asking  me  to  excuse  her,  but  she  sends 
the  things,  thinking  that  I  may  want  to  rejuvenate,  and  per 
haps  dye,  before  I  go  to  the  ball. 

Kej  uvenate !  Does  she  mean  to  say  that  I'm  not  young 
enough  ?  and  if  I  wasn't,  how  are  these  things  a-going  to  help 
me?  I  know  that  girls  in  school  sometimes  eat  chalk  and 
chew  gum,  but  never  heard  that  they  got  the  younger  for  it. 
Then  the  pink  powder — well,  it's  no  use  calculating  about  it, 
especially  as  she  wants  me  to  die  after  it.  I  wish  Cousin  E.  E. 
would  ever  learn  to  spell.  When  a  woman  dies  she  does  not 
do  it  with  a  "  y  "  as  a  general  thing. 

Now  what  does  all  this  mean  ? 

I  was  doing  my  hair  at  the  looking-glass,  when  Cousin  E.  E. 
came  in,  looking  like  a  queen ;  her  blue  silk  dress  was  all 
spotted  with  gold  flowers,  and  it  streamed  out  half  across  my 
bedroom.  Over  that  she  wore  a  long  white  cloak,  with  tassels 
to  it,  and  her  hair  was  looped  in  with  pink  roses  that  were  not 
redder  than  her  cheeks,  which  would  have  satisfied  me  that  her 
health  was  first-rate,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  shadows  that  lay 
around  her  eyes,  which  had  grown  awfully  dark  since  I  saw 
her  at  home. 

"  Oh  !  "  says  she,  "  I  am  just  in  time.  Came  early,  think 
ing  you  might  want  help.  Sit  down;  that  will  do.  Now 
where  is  the  you-know-what — those  boxes — you  understand  ?  " 

Here  E.  E.  flung  off  her  cloak  and  came  to  the  glass.  I 
declare  to  you  the  creature's  neck  was  white  as  any  snow-drift 
but  uncovered  to  an  extent  that  frightened  me  out  of  a  week's 
growth.  Her  arms,  too,  were  the  same,  and  bare  as  her  neck. 
She  had  a  narrow  pink  shoulder-strap,  and  some  lace  between 
them,  and  that  was  all ;  only  a  string  of  white  stones,  that 
shone  like  a  rainbow  now  and  then,  was  around  her  neck  and 
one  arm ;  two  or  three  of  the  same  kind  of  stones  hung  down 
from  her  ears,  and  shot  out  light  from  her  hair. 

The  whiteness  of  that  neck  astonished  me,  and  made  me  look 
every  which  way. 

E.  E.  didn't  seem  to  mind  that,  but  took  off  her  long  white 


62  Tickets  for  the  Ball. 

gloves  and  laid  them  on  the  table ;  then  she  snatched  up  one 
of  the  boxes,  and  began  to  rub  a  handkerchief  that  lay  on  the 
bureau  in  it. 

"  There  now ;  hold  back  your  head  a  little,"  says  she;  "  shut 
your  eyes." 

Here  she  began  to  rub  my  face  and  neck  and  arms  with  the 
handkerchief  till  they  looked  white  as  her  own.  Then  she 
changed  boxes,  and  I  could  feel  her  making  soft  dabs  at  my 
cheeks,  which  tickled  a  little. 

"  Now  open  your  eyes,"  says  she. 

I  opened  them  wide,  she  astonished  me  so ;  and,  as  true  as 
you  live,  she  began  to  tickle  them  with  a  tenty-tointy  brush. 
After  that  she  titivated  my  hair  a  little,  washed  her  hands 
•vith  some  Cologne  water,  and  snatching  up  my  pink  silk  dress, 
which  lay  across  the  bed,  just  buried  me  in  it.  I  declare  it 
was  scrumptious  to  feel  the  silk  a-rustling  round  me,  and 
a-settling  down  on  the  floor,  wave  on  wave.  Well,  the  bill 
was  a  damper,  but  I  couldn't  help  enjoying  it  for  all  that. 

"  Now,"  says  E.  E.,  a-drawing  on  her  long,  white  gloves, 
"just  take  a  look,  and  let  us  be  off — Dempster  is  waiting." 

I  did  take  a  look,  right  straight  in  the  glass,  and  couldn't 
help  doing  it  again  and  again,  the  lady  I  saw  there  seemed  so 
much  like  a  magnificent  stranger  to  me — so  white,  so  blooming 
— so — .  Forgive  me,  sisters — I  forgot  that  modesty  is  a  ten 
der  blossom  that  should  be  encouraged — and  I  will  say  no 
more,  only  this,  Cousin  Dempster's  neck  had  a  good  deal  more 
of  it  than  mine,  and  that  French  dress-maker  had  given  me  a 
little  chance  of  sleeves,  while  her's  left  them  out  altogether. 

When  she  spread  out  my  skirt,  it  half  covered  the  room. 
All  at  once  she  saw  just  one  little  spot  of  rain  on  it,  and  held 
up  both  her  hands. 

"  Why,  you  haven't  worn  this  before  ?  Good  gracious  !  110 
lady  in  our  set  ever  wears  the  same  dress  twice.  The  idea !  " 

I  felt  myself  wilting,  for  she  was  sarcastic  in  her  speech. 
Then  I  up  and  spoke  for  myself. 

"  Yes,  I  wore  it  once,"  says  I ;  "  but  it  was  tucked  up  under 


The  Grand  Duke's  Ball.  63 

my  waterproof  cloak,  with  the  lining  turned  inside  out,  and 
nobody  saw  it — especially  the  great  Grand  Duke,  who  didn't 
come  out  of  his  own  vessel." 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  then  it  won't  be  an  absolute  disgrace  to 
the  family  if  you  wear  it.  I  began  to  be  afraid  to  go  with  you. 
There,  now,  don't  look  pins  and  needles  at  me,  but  just  put 
something  round  you,  and  let  us  be  off,  or  he  will  be  there 
before  us." 

That  was  enough.  I  huddled  up  that  pink  silk  in  my  arms, 
and  in  less  than  two  minutes  Cousin  Dempster's  carriage  was 
so  choke  full  of  his  wife  and  me,  that  he  took  a  seat  with  the 
driver. 


XIII. 


|H,  my !  wasn't  that  ball-room  a  sight  to  see  ?  Seats 
piled  on  seats,  all  cushioned  with  red  velvet,  and  one 
end  curving  round  like  a  great  red  horseshoe,  with 
flags  and  flowers  and  shields  running  below  the  bottommost 
tier;  a  great  swinging  balloon  of  sparkling  glass  poured  its 
light,  like  July  sunshine,  down  on  a  crowd  of  people,  that 
looked  more  like  born  angels  than  human  creatures.  It  fairly 
made  me  dizzy  to  look  at  'em  from  Cousin  Dempster's  box-seat, 
which  was  right  in  the  end  of  the  circle. 

After  a  while  I  got  my  senses  back,  and  looked  out  for  him. 
He  wasn't  there  yet,  and  that  gave  me  a  chance  to  see  things. 
Four  more  heaps  of  glass,  that  seemed  as  if  they  had  caught 
fire,  hung  in  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  beyond  them  was 
a  fountain  of  water,  a-sparkling  and  a-flashing  and  a-tinkling 
in  a  make-believe  garden  by  moonlight,  with  live  fish  swimming 
in  it,  and  live  flowers  blooming  in  piles  and  heaps  around  it, 
and  make-believe  trees.  Half  running  round  the  room  was  a 


64  The  Grand  Dukes  Ball. 

lot  of  marble  posts,  with  white  flower-pots  running  over  with 
sweetness,  and  linked  together  with  running  vines,  that  made 
you  feel  yourself  almost  out  of  doors. 

All  this  was  splendid ;  but  there  was  one  spot  that  every 
body  looked  towards,  and  I  most  of  all.  Three  boxes,  cushioned 
with  red  velvet,  were  just  chained  together  with  great  wreaths 
of  flowers  such  as  I  never  saw  in  a  garden;  but  I  knew  they 
were  genuine  because  of  the  scent,  which  was  delicious.  Ban 
ners  set  full  of  stars  and  stripes  of  red  and  white  silk,  all 
tangled  in  with  flowers,  hung  over  these  boxes,  and  right  in 
the  centre  streamed  a  white  silk  banner,  on  which  our  old  bald 
eagle  and  the  black  eagles  of  all  the  Russias  flocked  together  as 
sociable  as  robins  in  a  nest. 

"  There  he  is  !     There  he  is  !  " 

I  started.  I  caught  my  breath,  for  back  of  the  white  flag  he 
stood  with  the  light  a-shining  on  his  beautiful  yellow  hair,  and 
a  smile  on  his  lips.  Oh,  how  grand,  how  tall,  how  gorgeous  ! 
Everybody  was  a-looking  at  him.  The  girls  around  me — al 
ways  forward,  and  so  silly — began  twittering  together,  and 
looking  that  way  as  if  he  would  ever  think  of  dancing  with 
them.  They  swarmed  around  me,  as  a  representative  person. 
They  forgot  their  own  trivialities,  and  rendered  me  such  homage 
as  genius  commands  from  commonplace  minds. 

"  You  are  an  author,"  said  they.  "  You  belong  to  the  great 
aristocracy  of  the  world.  Speak  for  us.  He  cannot  dance 
with  "all  of  us,  but  he  can  look  this  way  through  his  opera-glass, 
and  give  us  all  a  chance  of  being  put  in  the  papers  as  the  beau 
tiful  young  lady  he  admired  so  much.  We  appoint  you  a  com 
mittee  of  one.  Address  him  in  our  behalf.  Get  some  memento 
of  him  that  we  may  leave  to  future  generations." 

The  entreaties  of  these  young  creatures  went  to  my  heart.  I 
raised  my  forefinger,  which  was  like  an  oath  to  them,  and  says 
I: 

"  Thanks  for  this  honor.  Like  a  Roman  matron  I  will  do 
my  duty.  Wait." 

I  arose  from  my  seat,  and  swept,  with  a  dignity  and  grace 


The  Grand  Dukes  Ball.  65 

that  must  have  done  the  Society  I  represent  great  honor, 
around  the  gallery,  and  found  my  way  into  the  private  retir 
ing-room  of  our  illustrious  guest.  It  was  small  but  beautifully 
furnished.  My  pink  silk,  as  it  trailed  in,  seemed  to  fill  the 
whole  room.  In  the  looking-glass  I  saw  a  figure,  tall,  com 
manding  ;  I  may  say  queenly — but  enough  of  that. 

A  person  stood  near  the  door  and  looked  in.  I  lifted  my 
finger ;  he  approached. 

"  Go,"  says  I,  "  to  the  great  Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Russias, 
and  tell  him  that  Miss  Phcemie  Frost,  a  committee  lady,  awaits 
his  presence  here." 

He  started — he  smiled — he  went. 

I  drew  back  and  stood  against  the  wall  opposite  the  door. 
He  entered,  looking  a  little  puzzled.  I  advanced  one  foot, 
then  the  other,  three  long  paces,  as  queens  do  when  they  act 
on  the  stage.  Then  I  sunk  down  in  a  profound  curtsey,  wound 
myself  up  again  into  a  royal  position,  and  held  out  my  right 
hand. 

"  Great  Grand  Duke  Alexis,"  says  I,  "  son  of  an  illustrious 
father  and  an  imperial  mother,  whom  all  women  love  to  honor, 
welcome  to  our  shores — welcome  to  the  fashion,  genius,  and 
beauty  embodied  in  the  females  of  America." 

Before  I  could  finish  the  address  to  which  duty  and  ever 
burning  genius  inspired  me,  the  great  Grand  Duke  quenched 
my  ardor  by  a  heavenly  smile  that  danced  in  his  blue  eyes, 
and  almost  broke  into  a  laugh  on  his  red  lips.  His  voice  was 
like  over-ripe  strawberries  when  he  spoke  and  said  :  "  The 
ladies  did  him  great  honor  ?  he  had  not  English  to  express  his 
pleasure,  and  no  power  to  repay  their  kindness."  This  was  my 
time. 

"  Being  the  head  of  a  committee  of  so  many  young  ladies 
that  it  is  impossible  for  your  Imperial  Majesty  to  dance  with 
the  whole,  I — that  is,  these  ladies — wish  to  be  represented  in 
the  festive  cotillon  by  a  person  worthy  of  the  occasion.  Not 
the  wife  of  an  American  potentate,  who  may  or  may  not  have 
any  claims  of  her  own,  but  a  potentate  in  herself.  Not  crowned 


66  The  Grand  Dukes  Ball. 

with  the  shadow  of  a  man's  laurels,  but  wearing  her  own  bay 
leaves  as  Tasso  did." 

Here  I  felt  niy  eyes  a-drooping,  and  my  tall  figure  bent  like 
a  weeping  willow.  The  great  Grand  Duke  saw  my  confusion, 
and  his  smile  deepened  audibly. 

"  Say  to  the  lovely  committee  of  ladies,"  says  he — 

But  I  interrupted  him,  and  putting  one  hand  on  my  heart, 
observed,  with  a  gentle  bow : 

"  Embodied  in  me." 

Then  he  smiled  out  loud  again,  and  says  he  : 

"  If  the  Committee  of  Arrangement  permit,  I  shall  have 
much  pleasure." 

With  that  he  bowed  and  prepared  to  go  out.  I  drew  back 
toward  the  wall  till  the  pink  silk  skirt  began  to  tangle  up  my 
feet,  and  kept  my  eyes  lifted  to  his  face,  which  was  still  bathed 
in  blushing  smiles.  Another  step,  a  low  curtsey,  and  I  lifted 
myself  up  with  dignity  while  he  passed  through  the  door. 

I  was  alone,  with  nothing  but  the  looking-glass  to  gaze  on 
my  delight.  The  young  ladies  had  begged  of  me  for  a  memento 
of  royalty.  I  looked  around.  An  ivory -handled  hair-brush 
lay  on  a  marble  shelf  under  the  glass.  I  seized  upon  it,  know 
ing  that  it  had  touched  his  head.  I  examined  it.  Imagine 
my  joy — six  bright  yellow-brown  hairs  clung  to  the  bristles ! 
Carefully,  daintily  I  picked  them  out,  and,  laying  them  in  the 
palm  of  my  white  glove,  formed  a  tiny  tress  of  them — tiny, 
but  oh  !  how  exquisitely  precious  ! 

With  this  treasure  in  my  hand  I  went  back  to  my  constitu 
ency.  They  crowded  round  me  ;  sparkling  eyes  gazed  upon  the 
glorious  prize  I  had  secured ;  cherry  lips  kissed  it  with  gush 
ing  fervor,  and  pleaded  with  me  for  just  a  morsel.  I  secured 
one  lovely  hair  for  myself,  and,  cutting  the  rest  into  tiny  bits, 
distributed  them  generously.  Oh,  sisters  !  this  act  endowed 
me  with  wonderful  popularity  among  my  young  companions. 
We  girls  should  be  generous  to  each  other.  I  was  generous, 
and  an  orchard  full  of  spring  robins  could  not  have  chirped 
more  happily  than  they  did  while  nocking  around  me.  But 


The  Natural  History  Philanthropist.  67 

the  dancing  began.  I  stood  ready,  with  my  long  pink  silk 
skirt  gathered  half  way  from  the  floor.  But  all  at  once  it 
dropped  from  my  -hand — he  was  on  the  floor,  and  another  lady 
clung  to  his  arm.  The  jealousy  of  that  committee  of  gentle 
men  had  prevailed.  He  danced  with  the  Governor's  wife. 

Did  I  stand  ready  to  play  second  fiddle  to  her  ?  No,  no  !  a 
thousand  times  no !  Was  I  not  a  New  England  lady  ?  Did 
I  not  feel  that  the  literature  of  the  country  had  its  eyes  upon 
me  ?  Jle  couldn't  help  it ;  the  deploring  glance  that  he  cast 
iipon  me  was  enough  to  satisfy  me  of  that.  Indeed,  his  feel 
ings  were  so  hurt  that  he  really  could  not  go  through  the 
figures  of  the  cotillon,  but  kept  dancing  every  which  way,  like 
a  man  torn  with  distractions.  My  heart  ached  for  him.  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  his  distress,  and  retired  with  dignity  to 
my  seat  upstairs  and  looked  on,  while  my  proud  New  Eng 
land  heart  burned  with  indignation.  If  I  live,  that  committee 
of  gentlemen  shall  hear  from  me  again. 


XIV. 

THE   NATURAL   HISTORY   PHILANTHROPIST. 

JISTERS :— He  has  gone !  The  luminous  star  that  has 
shone  upon  us  with  such  refulgence  for  the  last  few 
weeks,  has  gone  to  our  beloved  "  Hub  of  the  Universe," 
where  poets,  governors,  and  other  distinguished  men  of  New 
England  are  now  revolving  around  him  like  the  spokes  of  a 
cart  wheel.  Mr.  Holmes  has  written  him  some  sweet  verses ; 
Mr.  Longfellow  has  greeted  him  with  welcomes.  They  have 
given  him  balls,  dinners,  and  a  cold  in  his  face.  In  short,  New 
-England  has  been  true  to  itself  and  its  climate.  When  the  hub 
turns  on  its  axle,  the  spokes  whirl  and  the  tires  revolve,  giving 
a  swift  throb  to  the  whole  universe.  As  a  New  England 


68  The  Natural  History  Philanthropist. 

woman — I  beg  pardon — young  lady,  I  am  proud  of  Boston, 
proud  of  the  honor  they  are  doing  to  Him.  But  after  all,  the 
Hub  must  imitate.  We  took  the  crown  off. 

Before  he  left,  a  new  and  exquisite  idea  came  into  my  head 
— some  people  may  think  it  a  little  nighty,  but  you  will  under 
stand  all  the  poetry  it  contains.  I  have  a  canary  bird — for  I 
love  birds  with  all  the  inborn  intensity  of  genius — so  old  that 
his  feathers  are  nothing  more  than  a  creamy  white.  In  that 
particular  he — I  should  say  she — being  a  female,  that  never 
sings  beyond  a  chirp,  has  the  gift  of  silence  peculiar  to  the  sex. 
I  got  her  cheaper  on  that  account.  Well,  she  is  almost  dove- 
like  in  color  and  in  sweetness  of  disposition.  No  more  lovely 
messenger  from  heart  to  heart  could  be  found  in  the  whole 
world. 

Well,  sisters,  I  took  this  bird  from  its  cage  with  my  own 
hands,  and  I  smothered  it  with  kisses  from  my  own  lips,  which 
quivered  with  intensity  of  emotion.  Then  I  tied  a  blue  ribbon 
about  its  neck,  and  attached  to  that  a  tenty-tointy  note  which 
contained  these  lines : 

_ 

Farewell,  noble  prince,  my  fond  heart  is  gushing 

With  thoughts  that  no  language  can  ever  reveal ; 
With  the  sweetest  affection  this  warm  cheek  is  blushing, 

And  hopes  to  my  maidenly  bosoni  will  steal, 
Of  a  time  when  our  souls,  with  united  expression, 

Shall  mingle  with  harmony  more  than  divine  ; 
And  the  priest — be  he  Greek,  or  of  any  profession — 

Shall  bless  this  poor  hand  as  it  clings  unto  thine. 

The  paper  was  of  an  exquisite  rose-color  on  which  I  indited 
this  gem.  I  natter  myself  that  genius  can  sometimes  write 
beautifully.  It  is  not  just  the  thing  to  particularize  here,  but 
if  that  Grand  Duke  can  read  English  he  must  have  admired 
the  sweet  morsel  which  that  lovely  songster  bore  to  him  on  the 
wings — well,  of  a  canary. 

I  would  not  send  my  bird  in  a  cage,  because  handsome  cages 
are  expensive,  and  do  not  carry  an  idea  of  freedom  with  them, 
which  our  spread  eagle  might  have  led  the  great  Grand  Duke 


The  Natural  History  Philanthropist.  69 

to  expect.  Neither  would  I  trust  her  with  a  street  boy  whose 
hands  might  be  dirty  and  unsafe.  No,  I  put  on  my  bonnet, 
locked  the  bird  with  his  blue  ribbon  in  a  box  covered  with  gilt 
paper,  and  walked  straight  down  to  the  Clarendon  Tavern,  arid 
asked  for  one  of  the  committee-men. 

A  tall,  grave-looking  gentleman  came  into  the  room,  where 
I  sat  waiting,  and  said  he  was  Mr.  Bergh,  one  of  the  commit 
tee-men,  and  then  stood  a  minute,  as  if  he  was  waiting  to  know 
what  I  wanted. 

I  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  gentleman's  goodness  to 
the  poor  dumb  beasts  that  are  so  abused  and  trampled  on,  and 
my  heart  rose  right  into  my  mouth. 

"  Mr.  Bergh,"  says  I,  reaching  out  my  hand,  "  in  the  name 
of  New  England,  permit  me  to  shake  hands,  and  thank  you 
for  the  good  you  are  a-doing  to  so  many  of  God's  own  creat 
ures." 

The  gentleman  smiled,  and  reached  out  his  hand. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear,"  says  I,  "  that  some  old  bachelor  has 
left  a  lot  of  money  to  your  society.  It  is  just  what  I  would  do 
myself  if  I  hadn't  a  hope — that  is,  it  may  be  possible  that  all 
the  money  I  have  will  be  needed  for  a  special  occasion — as  no 
free-born  New  England  woman  would  be  beholden  to  a  foreign 
nation  for  her  setting  out. 

Here  Mr.  Bergh  smiled.  You  have  no  idea  how  much 
younger  he  looked  when  he  did  smile  ;  the  benevolence  that 
made  him  a  Natural  History  Philanthropist  just  shone  out  from 
his  eyes,  and  beamed  all  over  his  face,  till  I  longed  to  be — well, 
say  a  duck,  or  something  of  that  sort — that  he  might  save  me 
from  oppression. 

"  Thank  you,"  says  he ;  "  most  men  want  some  object  in  life. 
You  ladies  have  done  so  much  for  humanity  that  we  are  con 
tent  to  leave  it  in  your  hands,  but  the  poor  animals  have  up 
to  this  time  escaped  compassion." 

"  Not  compassion,  but  assistance,"  says  I.  "  Cruelty  to  an 
imals  is  mostly  confined  to  men." 

"  Not  exactly,"  says  he.     "  I  have  sometimes  seen  kittens 


70  The  Natural  History  Philanthropist. 

and  pet  dogs  treated  more  unmercifully  than  omnibus-horses, 
and  by  innocent  children  too." 

I  did  not  answer.  How  could  I?  The  remembrance  of  a 
trout-brook,  with  birch-trees  hanging  over  it,  and  great  red- 
seeded  brake-leaves  growing  thick  on  the  bank,  made  me  shud 
der.  Hadn't  I  held  ever  so  many  kittens  under  water  in  that 
very  spot,  and  shouted  and  laughed  to  the  other  girls — some  of 
you,  my  sisters,  among  them — while  the  poor  little  things  kicked 
and  struggled  for  life,  that  was  just  as  dear  to  them  as  it  is  to 
me  ?  Hadn't  I  hunted  up  birds'  nests,  and  driven  the  pretty 
creatures  distracted  by  handling  their  eggs,  till  at  last  the  nests 
were  broken  up  ?  Then  didn't  I  string  the  cold  eggs  into  a 
chain,  and  hang  them  in  triumph  over  the  looking-glass  in  our 
keeping-room  ? 

You  will  tell  me,  out  of  the  kindness  of  your  hearts,  that 
these  were  sins  of  ignorance.  Just  so ;  and  it  is  this  igno 
rance,  which  is  sometimes  cruel  as  the  grave,  that  Mr.  Bergh  is 
trying  his  best  to  enlighten.  No  child  would  do  a  cruel  thing 
if  it  were  made  to  understand  the  pain  it  is  giving.  Yet, 
sticking  pins  through  flies,  and  spearing  wasps  to  the  wall,  are 
about  the  first  thing  a  smart  baby  learns  to  do. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  lot  of  boys  going  home  from  school,  when 
a  garter-snake,  or  any  other  harmless  serpent,  crosses  their 
path  ?  They  know  well  enough  that  the  poor  things  do  no 
harm,  and  are  as  afraid  as  death  of  them ;  but  see  the  great 
stones  they  heave  upon  the  miserable  reptile  ;  the  shouts  they 
send  up,  as  it  writhes,  and  coils,  and  fills  the  air  with  feeble 
hisses,  trying,  poor  thing,  to  save  its  bruised  and  broken  life 
to  the  last. 

Does  anybody  tell  the  boys  that  this  is  brutal  cruelty  ?  No, 
even  the  Christian  mother,  who  would  not  do  an  unkind  thing 
to  save  her  life,  forgets  that  God  makes  snakes  as  well  as  ring 
doves,  and  that  pain  is  just  as  bitter  to  the  snake  as  to  the 
cooing  bird. 

Sisters,  we  are  all  wrong  in  leaving  these  things  to  men  only. 
If  we  did  our  duty,  and  taught  little  children  that  even  thought- 


The  Natural  History  Philanthropist.  71 

less  cruelty  is  a  sin,  and  that  the  fun  which  comes  out  of  pain 
to  any  of  God's  creatures  is  a  crime,  there  would  not  be  much 
for  Mr.  Bergh  and  his  noble  society  to  do.  The  cruel  instincts* 
of  a  child  become  ferocious  in  the  man.  With  such,  men  can 
best  deal.  I  thank  God  that  one  brave  spirit  is  found  ready 
and  able  to  protect  the  dumb  creatures  that  are  given  us  for 
blessings,  not  for  victims. 

.  While  I  am  writing  this,  picture  after  picture  comes  up 
from  my  own  past  girlhood,  and  my  heart  stands  still  as  I  re 
member  how  ferocious  a  thirst  for  fun  and  ignorance  can  be  in 
a  child.  How  many  sleepy-looking  toads  I  have  seen,  with 
their  backs  all  jewels,  and  their  throats  yellow  gold,  that  asked 
nothing  but  a  burdock  leaf  for  shelter,  and  a  few  flies  for  food, 
crushed  to  death  by  boys  who  thought  no  harm,  and  only  liked 
the  sport  of  killing  something. 

Since  then,  I  have  learned  that  these  little  creatures  are  a 
great  help  to  gardeners,  and  that  wise  men  foster  them  with 
kindness  and  care. 

Once,  down  by  the  trout-brook  we  know  of,  I  saw  a  lot  of 
children,  busy  as  bees,  doing  something  on  the  bank,  where  two 
or  three  boys  were  kneeling,  and  the  rest  looking  on.  Of  course 
I  went  down  to  the  brook,  and,  being  a  little  mite  of  a  creat 
ure,  looked  on,  half  frightened,  half  wondering. 

The  boys  had  caught  a  great  frog,  green  as  grass.  He  was, 
I  have  no  doubt,  one  of  those  hoarse  old  croakers,  that  make 
one  timid  about  going  by  ponds  and  marshy  ground  in  the 
night,  up  in  our  State.  Well,  they  had  him  down  in  the 
grass,  and  one  held  him  while  the  other  ran  a  pin  through  both 
jaws  and  twisted  it  there.  There  was  no  fun  in  this.  A  lot 
of  doctors  cutting  off  an  arm  couldn't  have  been  more  gravely 
in  earnest.  Some  of  the  boys  were  eight  and  ten  years  old ; 
but  not  one  of  them  seemed  to  feel  that  they  were  doing  a  hid 
eous  thing.  I  remember  feeling  very  sorry  for  the  poor  frog, 
but  it  was  not  till  years  and  years  after  that  I  understood  the 
horrible,  lingering  death  these  ignorant  boys  had  tortured  him 


72  The  Natural  History  Philanthropist. 

with.     Since  then  I  have  never  thought  of  that  sparkling  trout 
stream,  without  a  pain  at  my  heart. 

"  Childish  ignorance,"  I  hear  you  say — for  some  of  these 
boys  were  your  own  brothers,  and  meant  no  harm.  But  what 
right  had  they  to  be  ignorant  ?  They  knew  well  enough  that 
it  was  against  the  law  to  kill  one  another.  Why  were  they  not 
taught  that  the  life  that  God  gives  to  His  meanest  creature  is 
as  sacred  as  a  good  man's  prayers ;  unless  necessity  calls  for  it, 
and  then  it  must  be  taken  with  as  little  suffering  as  death  can 
give? 

Sisters,  I  am  in  earnest ;  the  missionary  spirit  is  strong 
upon  me.  I  wish  our  Society  to  take  up  this  subject  with  in 
terest.  What  Mr.  Bergh  has  been  doing  among  men,  we  must 
do  among  the  children  of  this  generation.  When  ignorance  is 
an  excuse  for  cruelty,  you  and  I  and  every  woman  of  the  land 
are  wretches  if  we  allow  a  child  to  sin  because  it  knows  no 
better.  There  is  no  great  study  necessary  to  work  out  a  reform 
here.  The  mother  who  knows  what  is  right  knows  how  to  im 
press  it  on  her  children  ;  and  if  they  play  at  death  and  destruc 
tion,  she  is  the  person  most  to  blame. 

Don't  say  that  I  am  writing  out  one  of  my  popular  addresses 
before  the  Society — I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing ;  but  when 
I  saw  the  great  Natural  History  Philanthropist,  my  heart  and 
mind  went  right  back  to  you  and  my  duties  as  a  missionary  of 
universal  progress,  and  I  sat  there  in  silence  thinking  over 
these  things  till  I  forgot  that  he  was  there. 

At  last  he  spoke,  and  said,  kindly  enough,  "  Is  there  any 
thing  I  can  help  you  in  ?  " 

I  started  and  reached  out  my  hand. 

"  Mr.  Bergli,"  says  I,  enthusiastically,  "  I  can  help  you  ! 
All  the  world  over  we  women  work  best  in  the  primary  depart 
ment.  You  have  begun  a  grand  and  a  noble  work  among 
men.  We  will  begin  at  the  other  end,  and  in  that  way  cut 
your  work  down  to  nothing.  I  see  a  clear  path  before  us. 
Henceforth  I  will  belong  to  your  Society,  and  you  shall  belong 
to  mine.  Is  it  agreed  ?  " 


The  Natural  History  Philanthropist.  73 

He  sat  down  by  me  ;  his  eyes  grew  bright ;  his  earnestness  of 
purpose  inspired  me  to  press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the  prize 
— I  beg  pardon,  the  old  prayer-meeting  spirit  will  manifest  it 
self  in  spite  of  me  when  my  soul  is  full  of  a  great  purpose. 

After  we  had  talked  on  the  great  subject  satisfactorily,  he 
said,  all  at  once,  "  But  you  came  for  some  purpose  in  which  I 
may  have  the  pleasure  of  serving  you." 

Then  I  remembered  ray  bird  and  its  imperial  object.  Re 
vealing  my  gold-paper  box,  I  opened  it  carefully,  fearing  a  sud 
den  flight.  Nothing  moved.  Trembling  with  dread,  I  put  in 
my  hand  ;  it  touched  a  soft  fluff  of  feathers  that  did  not  stir. 

My  heart  sank  like  a  •  lead  weight  in  my  bosom.  I  looked 
in ;  the  poor  little  thing  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  box,  with  its 
wings  spread  out,  and  its  head  lying  sideways.  I  touched  it 
with  my  hand ;  it  was  limp  and  dead.  While  I  had  been  talk 
ing  with  so  much  feeling  about  cruelty  to  animals,  my  own  lit 
tle  songster — no,  being  a  female  she  was  not  that-1— but  my 
poor  pet  had  been  smothered  to  death  in  that  gorgeous  little 
receptacle. 

With  my  heart  swelling  like  a  puff-ball,  I  turned  my  shoul 
der  on  that  good  man,  and  closed  my  satchel  solemnly,  as  if  it 
had  been  a  tomb. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  in  a  voice  full  of  touching  penitence,  "  I  feel 
myself  just  at  this  minnte  wholly  unworthy  of  the  mark  of  the 
high  calling  to  which  I  have  offered  myself.  A  young  lady 
who  puts  herself  forward  to  teach  thoughtful  kindness  to  the 
young,  should  be  above  reproach  in  that  respect  herself." 

The  good  ^gentleman  looked  awfully  puzzled,  for  how  would 
he  guess  at  the  crime  I  had  locked  up  in  that  box  ? 

"  Good-morning,"  says  I,  walking  away ;  "  the  time  may 
come  when  I  shall  feel  a  new  exaltation,  but  just  now — well, 
good-morning." 

I  went  away  meek  and  humble  as  a  pussy  cat.  When  I 
looked  down  at  the  box  in  my  hand  it  seemed  as  if  I  was  car 
rying  a  coffin. 

Well,  I  buried  my  poor  little  pet  in  that  identical  box,  with 
4 


74  Christmas  in  New    York. 

the  blue  ribbon  about  its  neck  ;  but  the  poem  I  forwarded  to 
him  in  Boston.  I  may  be  meek  and  humbly  conscious  of  my 
own  shortcomings,  but  the  Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Russias  shall 
never  go  home  with  the  idea  that  Vermont  hasn't  got  poets  as 
well  as  Boston,  and  that  young  ladies  cannot  put  as  much  vim 
and  likewise  maple-sugar  into  their  poetry  as  that  smart  fellow, 
Dr.  Holmes,  simmered  down  in  his. 

Just  read  mine  and  his,  that's  all ! 

I  do  think  that  nothing  can  equal  the  forwardness  of  some 
New  York  girls.  Would  you  believe  it,  one  stuck-up  thing 
has  just  stolen  my  beautiful  idea,  and  sent  her  card  to  the  great 
Grand  Duke  tied  round  a  bird's  neck ;  but  it  was  like  stealing 
a  fiddle  and  forgetting  the  fiddlestick.  A  card  isn't  poetry. 
There  is  no  accounting  for  the  vanity  of  some  people ;  but  the 
best  proof  of  genius  is  imitation. 


XY. 

CHRISTMAS    IN   NEW  YORK. 

|EAR  SISTERS:— Thanksgiving  is  the  great  Yankee 
jubilee  of  New  England.  Then  every  living  thing 
makes  itself  happy,  except  the  turkeys,  and  geese,  and 
chickens.  They,  poor  martyrs,  have  been  scared  into  the  mid 
dle  of  next  week  by  the  yells,  and  shrieks,  and  awful  cackling 
of  the  whole  army  of  winged  creatures  that  sit  in  ten  thousand 
ovens,  with  their  legs  tied,  their  wings  twisted,  and  the  gravy 
a-dripping  down  their  sides  and  bosoms,  like  rain  from  the 
eaves  of  a  house.  Of  course,  for  that  day,  every  barn-yard  in 
New  England  goes  into  mourning.  The  poor  hen  is  afraid  to 
cackle  when  she  lays  an  egg,  for  fear  of  having  a  gun  cracked 
at  her.  Even  the  fat  hogs  look  melancholy  in  their  pens,  for  a 
smell  of  roasting  spare-ribs  comes  over  them,  and  they  seem  to 


Christmas  in  New    York.  75 

ruminate  mournfully  on  some  means  of  saving  their  own  ba 
con. 

Of  course,  there  must  be  some  unhappiness  even  on  a  New 
England  Thanksgiving,  or  earth  would  forget  itself  and  turn 
into  heaven  all  at  once.  Besides,  who  thinks  of  the  scared 
goblers,  when  he  has  a  plump  turkey  roasted  brown  as  a  berry, 
scenting  the  whole  house  with  richness  ?  I  for  one  could  not 
bring  myself  to  the  foul  contemplation — excuse  the  wit — spon- 
taneiety  is  perhaps  my  fault. 

Well,  what  Thanksgiving  is  to  New  England,  Christmas-day 
is  to  New  York.  Everybody  goes  to  meeting  in  the  morning, 
and  everybody  takes  dinner  with  everybody  else  after  that. 
For  days  before  it  comes  the  streets  are  full  of  covered  wagons, 
and  men  and  boys,  loaded  down  with  bundles,  crowd  against 
each  other  on  every  doorstep.  In  fact,  half  New  York  just 
throws  itself  away  in  presents  on  the  other  half,  which  pitches 
just  as  many  back.  Thus  every  street  and  house  is  a  hubbub 
of  gifts  and  a  blaze  of  light,  from  Christmas  Eve  till  after 
Christmas  dinner. 

Christmas  Eve,  dear  sisters,  belongs  to  the  children.  What 
there  is  of  'em  in  these  parts,  and  the  jubilation  they  have,  rich 
and  poor,  black  and  white,  is  enough  to  warm  the  heart  in 
one's  bosom.  There  is  a  gorgeous  old  Dutch  ghost  that  they 
think  comes  prowling  over  roofs  and  down  chimneys  in  the 
night,  to  bring  them  presents.  This  comical  old  fellow  sets  up 
Christmas  trees  for  the  rich,  and  fills  woollen  stockings  for  the 
poor,  and  makes  himself  a  magnificent  old  humbug  that  every 
child  in  the  city  worships  and  will  believe  in,  though  the  little 
misguided  souls  know  at  the  bottom  of  their  hearts  that,  some 
how  or  another,  this  Santa  Claus  and  their  own  parents  have  a 
mysterious  understanding  and  private  moneyed  transactions, 
that  mix  things  terribly.  Still,  they  really  do  believe  in  the  old 
fellow,  just  as  you  and  I  believe  in  dreams.  It  is  the  last 
thing  a  little  girl  gives  up,  unless  it  is  her  dolls. 

Speaking  of  dolls,  I  wish  you  could  see  the  scrumptious  lit 
tle  ladies  that  have  been  sold  here  this  week.  You  and  I  were 


76  Christmas  in  New   York. 

awful  proud  if  we  could  get  a  rag-baby,  with  drops  of  ink  for 
eyes,  and  its  cheeks  reddened  with  a  little  pokeberry  juice; 
but  the  dolls  they  sell  here  are  such  beauties! — yellow  hair, 
frizzed  around  the  face  like  thistle-down ;  rosy  cheeks,  and  eyes 
that  shut  with  such  sweet  laziness  if  you  lay  the  little  things 
down.  I  declare,  it's  enough  to  make  one  long  to  be  a  child 
again,  to  take  one  of  these  dainty  creatures  in  your  arms. 

The  Saturday  before  Christmas  I  went  out  with  Cousin  E.  E. 
Dempster,  to  buy  presents.  She  came  in  her  carriage,  with  the 
driver  and  another  chap  in  regimentals  on  the  front  seat,  out 
side,  and  a  great  white  bear-skin  inside  that  just  swallowed  us 
up  to  the  waist,  as  if  we  had  settled  down  in  a  snow-bank  of 
fur.  Under  that  was  a  muff  for  your  feet,  and  some  contriv 
ance  that  must  have  been  a  foot-stove  hid  away,  for  it  was  as 
warm  as  toast. 

Well,  sisters,  such  things  may  be  extravagant,  I  know;  but 
they  are  nice,  if  it  wasn't  for  one's  conscience. 

The  carriage  turned  down  Broadway,  which  is  the  street 
where  the  most  splendid  stores  are  found.  It  really  was  worth 
while  to  see  how  that  driver — with  his  fur  gloves  that  made 
his  hands  look  like  a  bear's  claw — guided  them  horses  in  and 
out,  among  the  omnibus-stages,  the  carriages,  and  carts,  that 
just  turned  the  street  into  Bedlam.  It  fairly  made  me  catch 
my  breath  to  see  how  near  the  wheel  would  come  to  some 
other  wheel,  and  then  just  miss  it.  Every  stage  that  went 
lumbering  by  made  me  give  a  little  scream,  it  came  so  near  to 
running  us  down.  But  Cousin  E.  E.  sat  there  buried  in  the 
white  fur,  as  cosey  as  a  goose  on  her  nest.  It  aggravated  me, 
and  I  asked  her  if  she  wasn't  afraid  nor  nothing. 

"  Oh  no,"  says  she,  a-leaning  back  and  half  shutting  her 
eyes  ;  "  it  is  the  coachman's  business.  I  should  discharge  him 
if  anything  happened." 

"But  you  couldn't  discharge  him  after  you  were  mashed  to 
death  under  them  great  omnibus  wheels,"  says  I. 

E.  E.  smiled.     What  a  calm,  lazy  smile  she  has ! 

"  No,"  says  she  ;  "  but  there  would  be  a  fuss,  and  my  name 


Christmas  in  New   York.  77 

would  get  into  the  paper.  Everything  has  its  compensation, 
Cousin  Frost." 

Before  I  could  answer,  the  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  a 
large,  high  store,  with  great,  tall  windows,  all  one  shiny  sheet 
of  glass  on  each  side  of  the  door,  through  which  you  could  see 
lots  on  lots  of  silver  and  gold  and  precious  stones,  all  in  confu 
sion,  but,  oh,  how  gorgeous  ! 

"  This  is  Ball,  Black  &  Co.'s,"  says  she,  a-going  up  to  the 
door,  which  seemed  to  open  of  itself,  and  in  we  went. 

You  have  read  the  "  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainment."  I 
remember  the  time  well,  because  we  all  got  "  kept  in "  after 
school  for  being  caught  at  it.  Well,  that  cave  wasn't  to  be 
compared  to  what  I  saw  in  Messrs.  Ball  &  Black's  store.  From 
floor  to  roof,  all  was  one  dazzle.  Gold  clocks,  with "  silver 
horses  tramping  over  'em ;  colored  men  and  women — recon 
structed  figures,  I  reckon ;  white  stone  women,  a-standing, 
sitting  down,  scrouching  themselves  together,  or  riding  lions  a- 
horseback,  bold  as  brass,  filled  one  long  room,  like  a  regiment 
of  military  trainers.  Then  there  were  chandeliers  of  glass,  in 
which  no  end  of  rainbows  seemed  to  be  tangled;  dishes  of 
sparkling  glass,  set  in  a  frostwork  of  silver  or  gold,  and — I  may 
as  well  stop ;  no  genius  could  give  you  an  idea  of  the  gorgeous 
things  it  was  my  privilege  to  see  in  those  long  rooms. 

When  we  had  wandered  upstairs  and  downstairs  again, 
Cousin  E.  E.  stopped  at  one  of  the  counters,  and  wanted  to 
look  at  some  rings.  As  for  me  I  wanted  to  look  at  everything. 
What  was  one  ring  compared  to  whole  stars,  and  bands,  and 
clusters  of  shiny,  white  stones,  that  seemed  to  have  been  dug 
out  of  a  rainbow — all  mixed  up  with  other  stones,  red  as  blood, 
green  as  spring  grass,  blue  as  the  sky,  and  white  as  snow-crust. 
Why,  sisters,  that  counter  was  just  one  bed  of  burning  sun 
shine.  It  dazzled  my  eyes  so  that  I  can  hardly  remember  any 
thing  distinct  enough  to  describe  it  to  you. 

Well,  Cousin  E.  E.  bought  her  ring,  which  had  a  green  stone 
set  in  it.  I  saw  her  hand  a  lot  of  money  over  the  counter  to 
pay  for  it,  which  riled  my  conscience  a  little  ;  but  I  said  noth- 


78  The  Night  Before  Christmas. 

ing,  the  money  being  hers,  not  mine ;  still,  how  much  good  it 
might  have  done  some  missionary  society. 

Well,  out  of  this  store  of  gorgeousness  we  went,  and  got 
into  the  carriage  again. 

Cousin  E.  E.  said  she  had  bought  so  many  things  that  this 
was  about  the  last  place  she  had  to  go  to,  and,  as  it  was  get 
ting  pretty  near  dark,  I  must  go  home  with  her  and  help  fill 
up  the  Christmas  tree.  Cecilia  would  be  dreadfully  disap 
pointed  if  it  was  not  splendid,  and  they  all  thought  so  much  of 
my  taste. 

I  made  no  objections  ;  why  should  I  ?  Christmas  Day  in  a 
boarding-house  isn't  full  of  ravishing  promises,  so  I  just  snug 
gled  down  into  the  white  fur  again,  and  let  the  fellow  with 
bear-skin  claws  drive  me  where  he  had  a  mind  to. 


XYI. 

THE    NIGHT    BEFORE    CHRISTMAS. 

jtl,  sisters !  there  is  something  touching  and  splendid 
in  a  Christinas  tree.  Just  fancy  one  of  our  mountain 
spruces,  towering  almost  to  the  ceiling  of  a  room, 
green  as  when  it  was  cut  from  the  woods.  Think  of  this  tree, 
hung  all  over  with  little  wax  candles,  bunches  of  pale-green 
and  purple  grapes,  teinty  red  apples,  golden  horns  and  baskets 
chuck  full  of  sugar  things.  Stuffed  humming-birds,  looking 
chipper  as  life.  Butterflies,  that  seem  to  be  flying  through 
the  green  of  the  trees,  and  a  whole  camp-meeting  of  dolls  sitting 
around  the  roots,  and  then  tell  me  if  the  Christmas  time  of  a 
New  York  child  isn't  like  living  among  the  people  of  a  fairy 
book. 

This  was  the  sort  of  tree  set  up  at  Cousin  Dempster's,  Sun 
day   night   before   this   last   Christmas   day.     Of  course,  we 


The  Night  Before  Christmas.  79 

couldn't  think  of  breaking  the  Sabbath,  but  the  minute  it  was 
sundown,  at  it  we  went.  Of  course,  we  didn't  want  the  little 
girl  to  know  what  we  were  a-doing  ;  but  the  first  we  knew,  in 
she  hopped,  as  chipper  as  a  humming-bird,  and  would  keep 
interfering  and  changing  things,  in  spite  of  all  we  could  do. 

At  last,  her  mother  got  her  dander  up  and  told  her  to  march 
right  off  to  bed,  just  as  a  woman  born  in  Vermont  ought  to 
order  her  own  child ;  but  the  tantalizing  thing  j  ust  hitched  up 
her  shoulder,  and  said,  "  She  wouldn't  go,  nor  touch  to  the  tree 
was  for  her  own  self.  The  house  was  her  par's,  and  she'd  do 
just  as  she'd  a  mind  to  in  it." 

With  that,  Cousin  E.  E.  blazed  into  a  passion,  and  took  her 
child  by  the  arm,  with  a  jerk  that  sent  her  flying  into  the  hall. 
Then  I  heard  a  screeching  and  a  scrambling  up  the  stairs,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  a  slap  or  two — I  hope  I  wasn't  mistaken  about 
that — then  a  door  slammed,  and  Cousin  E.  E.  came  downstairs 
like  a  house  o'  fire,  with  both  eyes  blazing,  and  one  cheek  red 
as  flame.  Could  it  be  that  the  slap  I  heard  was  from  the  other 
side,  or  had  it  been  a  free  fight  ? 

"  That  girl  will  be  the  death  of  me,"  says  she,  walking  about 
like  a  lion  in  its  cage.  "  I  never  knew  a  worse  child." 

"  I'm  sure  I  never  did,"  says  I,  with  more  than  my  usual 
spontaneiety,  for  I  felt  it. 

"  You  never  made  a  greater  mistake,"  says  E.  E.,  fierce  as  a 
hen  hawk.  <£  It  is  because  she  has  so  much  more  brains — 
spirit — genius  than  any  other  children.  A  more  splendid  char 
acter  never  lived  than  my  daughter  Cecilia." 

I  said  nothing ;  maybe  it  would  have  been  just  as  well  if  I 
had  held  my  tongue  before. 

"  She  is  a  favorite  everywhere,"  E.E.  went  on,  cooling  down 
like  a  brick  oven  after  the  coals  are  hauled  out. 

I  said  nothing. 

"  Ahead  of  girls  twice  her  age,"  E.  E.  went  on.  "  She 
speaks  French  like  a  native." 

"  Is  there  anything  more  to  put  on  ?  "  says  I. 

<£  Yes,"  says  she,  "  we  will  have  the  presents  ready  for  the 


8o  The  Night  Before  Christmas. 

morning.  I  meant  to  have  some  of  Cecelia's  friends  here  to 
morrow  night,  but  she  wanted  the  tree  to  herself." 

With  this,  E.  E.  brought  an  armful  of  boxes  and  things  from 
the  next  room.  The  first  thing  she  set  up  against  the  stem  of 
the  tree  was  a  doll,  dressed  in  a  splendid  silk  ball-dress,  with 
a  long,  sweeping  train,  and  teinty  rose-buds  in  her  yellow  curls. 
The  blue  eyes  were  natural  as  life,  'and  her  face  was  just 
lovely.  Then  she  brought  out  a  Saratoga  trunk  about  as  big 
as  a  foot-stool,  which  was  crowded  full  of  dolls'  dresses,  just 
such  as  a  live  young  lady  would  be  proud  to  wear. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  "  says  E.  E. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  says  I ;  "  how  much  did  it  cost  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars,"  says  she.  "  I  sent  to 
Paris  for  it." 

"  A  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  ? "  says  I,  lifting  up 
both  hands ;  "  that  would  keep  a  poor  family  how  long?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  says  she,  short  as  pie-crust,  "but  a  poor 
family  wouldn't  amuse  my  Cecilia,  and  these  will." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I ;  "  what  is  this  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  her  father's  present — pink  coral — hang  it  across 
one  of  the  limbs,"  says  she. 

I  hung  the  beads  among  the  spruce  leaves,  and  enjoyed  the 
sight ;  they  seemed  like  a  string  of  rose-buds  twisted  in  with 
the  green.  , 

II  There  now,  we   will  finish  in  the  morning,"  says  E.  E. 
"  I  wish  Cecilia  had  invited  her  little  friends ;  it  will  seem, 
rather  lonesome." 

With  this,  Cousin  E.  E.  gave  a  little  sigh,  and  we  went  olf 
to  bed,  telling  me  that  I  must  be  sure  to  get  up  in  time  for 
early  service,  which  she  wouldn't  miss  for  anything. 


Early  Service.  8  1 


XVII.- 

EARLY   SERVICE. 

SISTERS  :  —  Before  daylight  on  Christmas  morn 
ing,  I  went  to  early  service  at  the  highest  church  in 
New  York  city,  which,  after  all,  isn't  anything  to 
brag  of  in  the  way  of  steeple. 

There  is  a  brick  meeting-house  on  Murray  Hill  that  beats  it 
all  to  nothing,  for  that  has  just  the  longest  and  pointedest  stee 
ple  that  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  Still,  everybody  allows  that  the 
little  Episcopal  church  I  went  to,  Christmas  morning,  is  the 
very  fiighest  in  all  America  ;  and,  though  in  my  heart  I  don't 
believe  it,  having  eyes  in  my  head  —  there  is  no  chance  for  me 
to  take  a  measurement,  and  what  can  I  say  against  the  word  of 
everybody  else  ?  Still,  to  you  in  confidence,  for  I  don't  want 
to  get  into  a  schismatic  controversy,  I  dare  take  an  oath  that 
the  brick  church  on  Murray  Hill  is  twice  as  high,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  sharp-poiiitedness  of  the  steeple  and  the  hilly  ground. 

Cousin  E.  E.  Dempster  says  she  is  high  church  from  the 
crown  of  her  head  to  the  sole  of  her  foot,  which  I  didn't  dis 
pute,  for  she  always  had  high  notions.  She  gave  me  strict 
charge,  when  I  went  to  bed,  Christmas  Eve  night,  not  to  sleep 
late,  and  be  sure  to  be  ready  for  an  earlv  start. 

Well,  I  went  to  bed  feeling  as  if  I  had  got  to  start  by  some 
swift  railway  train  every  hour  of  the  night,  and  must  be  ready 
for  them  all.  It  was  Sunday  night,  you  know,  and  I  woke  up 
twice  with  a  start,  before  it  was  next  week  ;  got  up,  felt  for 
the  matches  I  had  laid  handy,  and  went  to  bed  again,  and 
dreamed  that  I  was  trying  to  get  into  a  steamboat  with  two 
steeples,  which  put  off,  and  left  me  freezing  on  the  dock. 

Like  one  of  the  wise  virgins,  I  had  brought  a  candle  up 
stairs,  and  some  matches,  which  was  an  improvement  on  their 
old  lamps,  I  dare  say  ;  but  I  wasn't  much  afraid  of  the  dark, 

and  didn't  keep  it  burning,  only  left  everything  ready. 
4* 


82  Early  Service. 

After  that  dream,  I  started  up,  struck  a  match,  and  found 
that  I  had  been  just  fifteen  minutes  in  getting  that  steam 
church  under  way.  So  I  went  on  dreaming,  starting  up,  and 
lighting  matches  all  night,  till  at  last -I  hadn't  but  one  left,  and 
with  that  I  lighted  the  candle,  and  a  gas-burner  by  the  bureau, 
and  began  to  dress  myself. 

Before  I  got  through,  Cousin  E.  E.  was  at  the  door,  with 
her  beehive  bonnet  on,  and  wrapped  up  in  fur. 

"  Almost  ready?  I  am  so  glad,  for  the  day  is  just  beginning 
to  break,  and  I  wouldn't  have  it  broad  light  when  we  get 
there,  for  anything,"  says  she.  "  Wrap  up  warm,  for  it  has 
blown  up  awful  cold  in  the  night." 

I  did  wrap  up  warm ;  put  on  a  veil,  and  tied  my  mink-skin 
victorine,  with  three  tails  on  each  tab,  close  around  my 
neck. 

We  went  downstairs  carefully,  for  only  one  burner  was 
twinkling  in  the  hall,  and  the  whole  house  was  dark  and 
shivery. 

"  Come  in  here,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  opening  the  dining- 
room  door. 

Under  the  glass  globe,  in  which  two  or  three  chilly  lights 
seemed  longing  to  go  out,  the  ghost  of  a  table  was  spread,  with 
a  great  deal  of  silver,  and  very  little  to  eat. 

"Just  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  mouthful  of  toast  before  we 
start,"  says  E.  E.,  sitting  down  behind  a  great  silver  urn  in 
her  furs  and  her  beehive ;  "for  my  own  part,  I  could  do  with 
out  that." 

She  poured  me  out  a  cup  of  coffee — it  was  half  cold  and 
awfully  riley — and  asked  me  to  help  myself  to  a  piece  of  toast, 
which  had  black  bars  across  it,  as  if  it  had  been  striped  on  a 
gridiron. 

"  Things  are  getting  cold,"  says  E.  E.,  "  they  have  been 
standing  so  long.  The  cook  has  been  out  an  hour ;  but  she 
knows  I  consider  this  my  penance." 

"  Out  where  ?"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  to  early  service." 


Early  Service.  83 

"  An  hour  ? "  says  I;  "  why  I  thought  we  were  going  to 
early  service.  It  isn't  daylight  yet." 

"  I  know,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  with  a  sigh,  "  but  her  church 
is  a  little  higher  than  ours." 

"  Higher,"  says  I ;  "  then  there  is  some  meeting-house  a 
notch  above  yours  ?  " 

c<i  Yes,  cousin,"  says  she,  mournfully,  "  but  we  are  creeping 
up.  Every  year  brings  us  a  step  nearer." 

"Just  so,"  says  I,  wondering  what  she  meant. 

"  By  and  by  we  shall  have  confession,"  says  she. 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "  there  isn't  a  meeting-house  on  Sprucehill 
that  would  take  in  a  member  till  she  had  made  a  confession  of 
religion." 

Cousin  E.  E.  shook  her  head,  and  observed  that  I  didn't 
understand,  which  riled  me  a  little,  having  been  a  member — 
well,  no  matter  how  long. 

"  Even  now  we  have  humiliation  and  penance." 

I  was  trying  to  swallow  a  mouthful  of  the  bitter  toast  and 
riley  coffee,  and  couldn't  in  my  heart  contradict  her. 

"  To  that  end  we  get  up  early,  cast  aside  sleep,  and,  in  all 
weather,  go  on  foot  to  the  altar.  Each  year  the  church  is 
opened,  and  the  candles  lighted  earlier  and  earlier,  as  souls 
more  clearly  see  their  way  to  the  true  faith." 

u  Just  so,"  says  I ;  "  by  and  by  they  will  be  good  enough  to 
light  up,  and  open  the  day  before,  I  suppose." 

The  clock  on  the  mantel-shelf  struck.  Cousin  E.  E.  started 
up,  and  put  both  hands  in  her  muff.  I  followed  her  out  of  the 
door,  and  into  the  street. 

Well,  sisters,  if  there  is  a  desolate  spot  on  earth,  it  can  be 
found  in  the  streets  of  a  great  city  after  the  lights  have  been 
put  out,  and  while  the  sky  is  gray.  To  pass  by  houses  in 
which  thousands  and  thousands  are  sleeping,  is  like  wandering 
through  the  lonesomeness  of  a  graveyard.  The  morning  was 
awful  cold ;  before  we  got  to  Lexington  Avenue  the  veil  was 
stiff  on  my  face.  I  felt  the  tears  a-freezing  on  my  cheeks,  and 
^my  teeth  chattered  so  that  I  couldn't  speak.  When  we 


84  High  Church. 

reached  St.  Albans — that  is  the  name  of  Cousin  E.  E.'s 
church — two  such  shivery  mortals  you  never  saw.  I  say,  sis 
ters,  there  wouldn't  have  been  much  use  in  warming  us  against 
a  good  fire  in  any  place  just  then.  I  don't  mean  to  be  satir 
ical  or  irreverent,  but  when  you  go  to  early  service  at  the 
break  of  day,  and  in  the  depths  of  winter,  I  think  ice-water 
and  snow-drifts  might  make  a,  solemn  impression  on  the  sin 
ful  heart. 


XVIII. 

HIGH   CHURCH. 

JT.  ALBANS  may  be  a  High  Church,  though  I 
couldn't  see  it ;  but  it  certainly  isn't  very  sizeable  \ 
and  as  for  coldness,  the  very  curls  on  my  head  shiv 
ered  as  if  they  grew  there. 

Cold,  yes ;  I  should  think  that  church  was  cold  ;  but  you 
never  saw  anything  more  beautiful  than  the  picture  it  made 
when  we  went  in.  liight  before  us  was  a  white ,  altar — not  a 
communion  table  like  ours  at  home,  but  a  little  platform  with 
steps  to  it,  set  thick  with  candles,  and  loaded  down  with 
wreaths  of  white  flowers.  I  tell  you,  sisters,  it  seemed  to  me 
as  if  the  angels  must  have  been  down  overnight,  and  moulded 
those  flowers  out  of  the  drifted  snow,  and  breathed  life  into 
them,  they  looked  so  pure. 

On  each  side  of  this  altar  was  a  great,  large  candle,  five  feet 
high,  and  thick  as  a  young  tree,  burning  with  a  slow,  steady 
fire,  and  some  of  the  smaller  candles  twinkled  like  stars  among 
the  flowers. 

All  overhead  and  down  the  walls  of  this  little  meeting 
house  were  great  wreaths  of  ground  pine,  ivy  and  hemlock, 
crowded  with  lights  and  sprinkled  with  flowers,  and  these  flung 
shadows  on  the  walls  more  lovely  than  the  wreaths  themselves. 


High  Church.  85 

I  was  chilled  through,  and  through,  but  I  don't  think  it  was 
that  which  brought  all  these  solemn  feelings  into  my  mind,  for 
the  tqars  that  had  frozen  on  my  cheeks  ran  freely  now,  and  my 
eyes  kept  filling  again.  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell  the  reason,  only 
that  everything  was  so  still  and  beautiful. 

The  pews  in  St.  Albans  have  no  cushions,  and  everybody  can 
sit  in  them,  only  there  is  a  placard  on  each,  inviting  the  poor 
to  sit  down  for  nothing,  but  telling  those  that  have  money  to 
give  it,  to  support  the  church ;  which  is  just  what  our  meeting 
houses  do,  though  they  only  chuck  the  plate  at  you,  without  a 
written  warning. 

Cousin  E.  E.  and  I  sat  down  in  one  of  the  pews,  and  slid 
our  knees  to  a  board  running  along  in  front,  to  kneel  on,  and 
covered  up  our  faces  a  minute  or  two  ;  then  we  looked  up,  and 
there,  close  by  the  altar,  stood  the  minister ;  but,  oh,  goodness  ! 
how  he  was  dressed  out.  He  had  on,  first,  a  black  silk  gown, 
with  great  bishop-sleeves,  then  a  white  linen  dress,  that  I 
should  think  was  a  night-gown,  only  it  was  on  a  man,  and  it 
isn't  many  women  who  would  like  to  lend  such  things  to  be 
used  in  meeting-time.  Over  that  he  wore  a  white  satin  cape. 

Cousin  E.  E.  pronounces  it  cope,  but  she  does  finefy  her 
words  so  since  she  came  to  York. 

On  that  was  worked  a  cross,  in  gold  and  silk,  like  a  Free 
Mason's  apron  in  some  respects.  He  held  a  book  open  in  his 
hand.  I  could  see  that  he  was  shaking  with  chilliness,  and  the 
words  rattled  like  icicles  from  his  lips.  Close  by  him  stood  a 
boy,  dressed  in  a  red  frock,  with  a  white  one  over  it. 

I  whispered  and  asked  Cousin  E.  E.  what  his  name  was ; 
she  answered  back — "  Acolyte,"  which  was  a  name  I  never 
heard  before. 

After  a  while  the  congregation  began  to  move  out  of  the 
pews,  a  few  at  a  time,  and  crowd  up  to  the  minister.  Then 
they  knelt  down  before  him,;  and  he  gave  them  bread  and  wine 
close  to  the  altar,  instead  of  having  it  handed  about  as  they  do 
in  our  Presbyterian  meeting-houses.  Cousin  E.  E.  went  up 
with  the  rest,  and  wanted  me  to  go  with  her,  but  I  could  not 


86  High  Church. 

bring  myself  to  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper  from  a  man  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  and  with  a  silk  cape  on  ;  so  I  shook  my  head  and 
sat  still,  watching  the  altar. 

After  they  had  done  coming  up  to  him,  the  minister  knelt 
down  and  prayed  awhile ;  then  he  got  up,  and  the  boy  in  red 
shirt  and  white  frock  handed  him  a  black  hat,  with  four  cor 
ners,  which  he  put  on  his  head ;  then  he  took  something  from ' 
the  altar  and  walked  through  a  side  door,  still  wearing  his 
double-cocked  hat.  The  boy  followed  him  out,  and  then  a  man 
came  round  among  the  pews  with  a  plate,  in  which  Cousin  E. 
E.  dropped  a  gold  piece  with  a  ringing  noise  that  made  people 
look  round.  I  followed  up  with  five  cents,  and  was  astonished 
to  see  how  little  ring  it  had  after  the  gold ;  nobody  looked 
round  at  me. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  we  came  out  of  that  little  meet 
ing-house,  and  not  quite  so  cold  as  it  had  been ;  but  still  I  was 
glad  to  keep  my  muff  up  to  my  face,  and  we  walked  toward 
home. like  a  house  afire. 

"  Well,  how  did  you  like  the  service  ?  "  says  Cousin  E.  E., 
as  we  shivered  along — "  impressive,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Very,"  says  I ;  "  only  do  tell  me  what  it  was  all  about. 
This  getting  up  and  sitting  down  and  bowing  at  nothing  is  more 
than  I  can  understand." 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  I  ought  to  remember  you  came  from  a 
Congregational  part  of  the  country." 

"  And  Methodist — to  say  nothing  of  Baptists  and  Quakers," 
says  I. 

*'  Yes,  I  mean  all  that,"  says  she ;  "  but  the  church,  as  a 
church,  is  but  little  understood  among  you." 

"  Well,  as  you  came  from  the  same  place,  you  ought  to 
know,"  says  I,  rebuking  her  city  airs  in  my  most  austere 
manner. 

"  Well,  yes,"  says  she ;  "  but  one  doesn't  hear  much  of  the 
true  church  so  far  in  the  mountains.  Even  you  seemed 
puzzled  by  a  good  many  things  this  morning." 


High  Church.  87 

"  Well,  yes,"  says  I — "  the  four-cornered  cocked  hat,  for 
instance." 

"  The  four-cornered  cocked  hat!  "  says  she,  stopping  shorten 
the  sidewalk.  "What  do  you  mean  ?  That  was  the  barette." 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "that  is  what  they  call  it!  Well,  then,  the 
four-cornered  cocked  barette — what  does  the  minister  wear  that 
for  ?  It  isn't  generally  considered  good  manners  for  men  to 
wear  hats  in  meeting." 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  clerical  reason  I  can't  quite  explain,  but  it  is 
a  part  of  the  ceremony." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I — "  and  the  night-gown." 

"  Surplice,  you  mean,"  says  E.  E. ;  "  oh,  that  is  worn  every 
where,  in  High  and  Low  Church  alike." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  there  may  be  a  reason  for  such  things, 
but  a  respectable  black  coat  is  what  I've  been  used  to." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  says  she  ;  "  but  some  people  prefer  the  sur 
plice  and  cope." 

"  Now  tell  me,"  says  I,  "  what  on  earth  has  a  minister  to 
do  with  a  woman's  satin  cape,  all  crimlicued  off  with  gold  and 
silk  work  ?  "  I  put  an  emphasis  on  the  word  cape,  to  rebuke 
her  finefied  way  of  pronouncing  it. 

"  It  is  a  part  of  the  clerical  paraphernalia,  and  gives  richness 
to  the  vestments,"  says  she.  "  But  the  altar — I  felt  sure  that 
you  would  be  pleased  with  that." 

"  Yes,"  says  I ;  "  the  white  flowers,  the  candles,  and  the 
evergreens  were  beautiful.  But  the  red  and  white  boy  was  top 
much  for  me ;  then  his  name — Acolyte — I  never  heard  any 
thing  like  it." 

Just  then  we  reached  home,  and  shivered  into  the  house  to 
warm  ourselves.  Cousin  Dempster  was  not  up  yet,  and  that 
child  was  sound  asleep.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  we  had  been  down 
stairs  a  week ;  but  there  was  the  Christmas  tree,  just  loaded 
with  presents  ;  and  there  was  the  marble  man  and  woman,  look 
ing  cold  as  we  were.  And  there  we  stood,  hungry  and  shiver 
ing,  for  the  help  had  all  gone  out  to  "  early  service,"  and  for 
got  to  heap  coal  on  the  furnace  ;  and  the  end  was,  we  just  got 


88  Christmas  Morning. 

into  our  cold  beds  again,  and  shivered  ourselves  to  sleep.  I 
dreamed  that  a  man,  all  in  black  and  white,  with  a  four- 
cornered  hat  on — one  tassel  hanging  over  his  eyes,  and  another 
down  his  back — with  something  like  a  flash  of  fire  about  his 
neck,  was  burying  me  ten  thousand  feet  deep  in  a  snow-drift, 
and  pounding  me  down  with  a  candle  as  big  round  as  my  waist. 
Then  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  got  out,  somehow,  and  was  trying 
to  warm  my  hands  by  the  red  frock  of  that  boy,  Acolyte,  who 
faded  into  nothing  before  my  eyes,  and  left  me  sound  asleep 
as  if  I  had  never  been  to  early  service  in  my  life. 


XIX. 

CHRISTMAS   MORNING. 

|E  had  a  good  long  sleep  after  early  service,  and  were 
all  up  bright  as  larks  the  next  morning,  wishing 
each  other  a  merry  Christmas,  and  waiting  for  that 
child  to  come  down  and  see  what  Santa  Glaus  had  brought  her. 
By  and  by  we  h*ard  her  coming.  Mr.  Dempster  looked  at  his 
wife  and  smiled,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Won't  our  presents  sur 
prise  her !  "  Cousin  E.  E.  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it, 
looking  pleased,  and  so  like  her  old  self  that  I  could  have 
kissed  her. 

At  last  Cecilia  came  in,  sour  as  vinegar,  with  her  hair  half 
combed,  and  her  sash  trailing. 

"  Why,  this  is  what  I  saw  last  night,"  says  she,  crossly. 

"  Look  at  the  foot  of  the  tree !  "  says  E.  E.,  eagerly. 

Cecilia  looked,  and  saw  the  doll  and  the  open  trunk.  Her 
lips  drooped  at  the  corners,  her  right  shoulder  lifted  itself. 

"  A  doll  for  me  !     The  idea  !  "  says  she. 

Cousin  E.  E.  turned  away,  I  think,  to  hide  the  tears  that 
swelled  to  her  eyes.  Mr.  Dempster  saw  it,  and  says  he : 


Christmas  Morning.  89 

"  Cecilia,  your  mother  spent  a  great  deal  of  money  for  the 
doll — don't  be  ungrateful." 

"  Just  as  if  I  wanted  her  to  do  it.     Baby  things  !  " 

"  Well,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  trying  to  brighten  up  her  face, 
"  there  is  your  father's  present." 

Cecilia  untwisted  the  string  of  coral,  and  looked  at  it. 

"Coral  is  for  babies!  That  is  worse  yet!  I  just  wish 
there  hadn't  been  any  Christmas  at  all,"  says  she,  a-flinging  the 
beads  in  a  lovely  pink  heap  on  the  floor.  "  There  now — I'll 
just  go  up-stairs  and  stay  there !  " 

"  Wait  a  minute,  my  darling,"  says  E.  E. ;  "  mother  has  got 
something  else." 

Cecilia  turned  back  a  step,'  but  scorned  to  let  her  sullen 
face  brighten,  though  her  eyes  grew  eager  when  Cousin  E.  E. 
took  a  little  paper  box  from  one  of  the  baskets,  and  opened  it. 

"See  here!" 

Cecilia  edged  up  to  her  mother,  saw  the  emerald  ring,  and 
snatched  at  it. 

"  I  bought  it  for  Cousin  Phcemie,"  says  E.  E.,  a-looking 
sort  of  pleadingly  at  me;  "  but  as  you  are  so  disappointed,  I'm 
sure  she  won't  care." 

"Cousin  Phcenrie!  The  idea!"  Cecilia  muttered  to  her 
self,  as  she  tried  the  ring,  first  on  one  finger,  then  on  another. 
"  Of  course  she  don't  want  it — old  as  the  hills  !  " 

I  did  not  say  one  word  while  that  creature  carried  off  the 
first  Christmas  present  I  ever  had  in  my  life  ;  but  it  seemed  as 
if  I  should  choke.  Isn't  it  hard  that  a  spoiled  child  like  that 
should  have  the  power  to  destroy  the  happiness  of  three  grown 
people  ?  But  she  did  it. 

The  Christmas  dinner  was  enough  to  make  your  mouths 
water,  from  this  distance — the  noblest  sort  of  a  turkey,  stuffed 
with  oysters,  and  everything  to  match — but  none  of  us  had 
much  appetite  for  it.  You  can  judge  what  my  feelings 
amounted  to,  when  I  have  lived  one  whole  month  in  a  board 
ing-house  and  couldn't  get  up  an  appetite — no,  not  even  for  the 
whitest  meat  of  the  breast !  Old  as  the  hills,  indeed ! 


90  About  Lions. ' 

XX. 

ABOUT    LIONS. 

fiEAR  SISTERS :— Cousin  E.  E.  had  invited  a  lot  of 
her  friends  to  a  stupendous  dinner-party  on  Christmas 
Day,  and  she  wanted  me  there  for  a  lion,  she  said, 
though  what  on  earth  a  great  roaring  lion  had  to  do  at  a 
dinner-table  I  couldn't  begin  to  think.  The  idea  made  me 
fidgety  ;  but  I  didn't  think  it  consistent  with  the  dignity  of 
our  Society  to  ask  questions,  or  let  any  one  know  that  I  didn't 
understand  everything  just  as  well  as  folks  that  have  lived  in 
York  all  their  lives.  Still  I  couldn't  help  trying  to  circum 
vent  Cousin  E.  E.  into  telling  me  what  I  wanted  to  know  in  a 
way  that  some  people  might  call  femininely  surreptitious. 

"  A  lion  !  "  says  I.  "  Are  such  animals  invited  to  a  city 
dinner  as  a  general  thing  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  not  at  all,"  says  she  ;  "  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the 
world  to  get  hold  of  is  a  real,  genuine  lion ;  that  is,  one  the 
whole  world  knows  about,  and  wants  to  see." 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  if  folks  are  so  anxious  about  it,  why  don't 
they  go  up  to  the  Rink  and  see  Mr.  Bariium's  great  monster 
animal.  It  don't  cost  much ;  besides,  there  are  camels  and 
monkeys,  and  lots  and  lots  of  things,  thrown  in." 

Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  laughed  till  tears  come  into  h'er  eyes. 

"  Oh !  Cousin  Phcemie,"  says  she,  "  you  are  so  delightfully 
•satirical." 

f(  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  says  I,  awfully  puzzled. 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  I  do ;  but  to  me  the  eccentricities  of 
genius  are  always  interesting.  To  be  an  attractive  lion  one 
must  say  bright  things,  no  matter  how  hard  they  cut." 

"  I  wasn't  aware,"  says  I,  <c  that  lions  were  given  to  much 
talking." 

"  Oh  !  "  says  she,  "  that  depends.  There  is  your  talkative 
lion,  your  learned  lion,  your  silent  lion — " 


"About  Lions.  9* 

«  That  is  the  sort  that  I've  always  seen,"  says  I ;  «  now  and 
then  a  growl,  but  nothing  beyond  that." 

Cousin  E.  E.  began  to  laugh  again,  till  she  had  to  hold  one 
hand  to  her  side. 

"Oh!  cousin,  paws,  paws,"  says  she;    "you  just  fall 

with  laughing." 

«  Yes,"  says  I,  "I  don't  deny  that  lions  have  paws,  b 
was  speech  we  were  talking  about,  and  that  I  do  deny." 

Cousin  E.  E.  just  shrieked  out  laughing,  though  f< 
of  me  I  couldn't  tell  what  it  was  all  about.  ^  ^ 

«  Now,  don't  you  understand  me— honest  now— don't  you  . 

says  she.  . 

"Why,  of  course  I  do  ;  only  nothing  could  be  more  rid 
lous  than  the  idea  of  a  great,  big,  magnificent  wild  beast,  with 
a  swinging  walk,  and  a  tuft  on  the  end  of  his  tail,  being 
showed  off  at  a  dinner-table.     I  for  one  shouldn't  have  a  mite 
of  appetite  with  such  a  creature  prowling  round." 

"  My  dear,  dear  cousin,  I'm  speaking  of  human  lions. 
«  Human  lions  !  I  always  thought  the  creatures  were  awfully 
inhuman,"  says  I ;  «  nothing  but  a  jackal  can  be  worse." 

«  I  mean  great  people— celebrated  for  something— bravery, 
literature,  the  arts,  sciences,"  says  she. 
«  Well,  what  of  them  ?  "  says  I. 
"  In  society  we  sometimes  call  them  lions.' 
«  O— oh !  "  says  I,  drawing  the  word  out   to    give  myself 
time.     "  So  you  really  thought  I  didn't  understand.     Why,  of 
course.     Dear  me !  cousin,  how  easy  it  is  to  cheat  you  ! '' 

"Oh!"  says  she,  "one  must  get  up  early  to  match  you 
women  of  genius,  I'm  aware  of  that.  What  dry  humor  yoi 
have,  now,  looking  so  innocent  and  earnest,  too  ! ' 

I  smiled  benignly  upon  Cousin  E.  E. ;  if  she  could  find  any 

humor  in  what  we'd  been  a-talking  about,  it  was  more  than  I 

could.     Lions!     Where  does  the  joke  come  in,  when  human 

beings  are  called  such  names  as  that  ?     Wild  beasts,  indee 

;  "  How  reallv  modest  you  are  !  "  says  Cousin  E.  E.     "  Any- 


92  About  Lions. 

body  else,  who  could  write  as  you  do,  would  have  known  that 
she  was  meant  when  I  mentioned  lions." 

I  dropped  my  eyes,  and  folded  both  hands. 

"  It  will  be  the  great  feature  of  our  party,"  says  she.  "  Our 
friends  will  know  that  you  are  a  blood  relation,  and  that 
pleases  Dempster ;  besides,  you  converse  so  beautifully,  too." 

"  Do  I?"  says  I,  folding  one  hand  over  the  other,  and  back 
again. 

"  And  look  so — so  distinguished." 

I  drew  my  figure  upright,  and  looked  into  the  glass  oppo 
site.  My  cousin  had  chosen  her  words  well ;  there  was  some 
thing  imposing  in  the  bend  of  that  head.  I  say  nothing ;  but 
she  was  right.  Indeed,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  she  gener 
ally  is. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  sent  down  for  my  pink  silk  dress. 
Cousin  E.  E.  looked  as  if  she  was  going  to  say  something 
against  it,  at  first ;  but,  after  a  little,  her  face  cleared  up,  and 
I  heard  her  muttering : 

"  This  is  the  third  time.  No  thing- on  earth  but  a  woman  of 
genius  could  stand  that ;  but  she  has  got  enough  to  carry  it  off." 

I  said  nothing,  but  thought  of  that  bill,  and  just  made  a  cal 
culation  of  how  much  it  would  cost  a  woman  to  rig  herself  out 
if  she  went  to  many  parties,  and  only  wore  a  dress  that  cost 
five  hundred  dollars  once. 

Well,  sisters,  Christmas  Day  came,  and  we  were  up  by  day 
light,  for  Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  is,  as  I  have  told  you,  a  High 
Church  woman  and  an  Episcopalian.  We  haven't  got  any 
meeting-house  of  that  denomination  in  our  neighborhood,  and 
I  don't  exactly  know  what  high  and  low  church  means,  without 
it  is  that  one  set  hold  to  meeting-houses  with  a  belfry,  and  the 
others  stand  up  for  a  high  steeple — a  thing  that  I  told  Cousin 
E.  E.  we  common  people  didn't  aspire  to ;  at  which  she 
laughed  again,  as  if  I  had  said  something  awfully  witty. 

Well,  in  another  report  I  have  given  you  an  account  of 
this  daybreak  meeting  in  the  High  Church,  but  just  now  I  am 
taken  up  with  the  Christmas  dinner. 


About  Lions.  93 

Now  don't  calculate,  because  we  eat  dinner  punctually  at 
noon  in  Vermont,  that  people  here  do  the  same  thing,  because 
it  is  nothing  of  the  sort.  Poor  working  people  do  that  in  this 
city,  and  nobody  else.  The  more  genteel  and  the  richer  you 
are,  the  later  you  eat  your  meals.  Most  of  the  well-to-do  mer 
chants  eat  dinner  at  six.  Men  that  have  got  above  earning 
their  own  living  dine  later  yet,  and  some  have  got  so  disgust 
ingly  genteel  and  rich,  that  I  don't  suppose  they  dine  till  next 
day. 

Cousin  Dempster  attends  to  business  yet,  so  he  settled  down 
on  eight  o'clock  for  his  dinner,  and  a  splendid  affair  it  was. 

When  Cousin  E.  E.  and  I  came  rustling  downstairs  with  a 
cataract  of  silk  rolling  after  us,  I  just  screamed  right  out. 
The  sight  of  that  table  was  so  exhilarating,  glass  a-shining — 
silver  dishes  and  things  a-sparkling — flowers  heaped  up  in 
flower-pots  and  twisted  in  wreaths  around  the  glass  globe  over 
head,  which  flashed,  and  sparkled,  and  glittered  as  if  it  had  been 
frozen  up  with  ten  thousand  icicles  that  flung  back  all  the  light 
without  melting  a  drop.  The  silk  curtains  were  all  let  down. 
The  carpet  looked  like  a  flower-bed,  and  the  whole  room  was  a 
sight  to  behold. 

Cousin  E.  E.  shut  the  glass  doors  that  looked  as  if  a  sharp 
frost  had  crept  over  'em,  and  we  sat  down  on  the  round  sofa  in 
the  front  room,  ready  for  company,  with  nothing  but  those  two 
marble  folks  to  hear  what  we  said. 

But  peace  and  quietness  will  never  come  to  a  house  that  has 
a  fast  child  like  Miss  Dempster,  as  the  creature  calls  herself,  in 
it.  We  had  hardly  sat  down  and  got  our  trains  spread,  when 
in  she  came,  all  in  a  fluff  of  white  muslin,  and  a  flutteration  of 
red  ribbons,  with  her  hair  a  flowing  down  her  back,  crinkle, 
crinkle,  and  her — well — limbs  just  strained  into  silk  stockings 
and  kid  boots  laced  down  ever  so  far  below  her  frock,  and  look 
ing  so  impudent.  Down  she  sat  on  the  round  sofa,'  and  begun 
to  swing  her  heels  against  the  silk  cushions. 

"  Why,  daughter,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  "  what  is  the  meaning 
of  this  ?  " 


94  About  Lions. 

The  child  laughed  and  flung  back  her  head. 

"  It  means,"  says  she,  c'that  I'm  not  to  be  cheated  into  stay 
ing  upstairs  when  a  Christmas  dinner  is  on  hand.  I'm  ready 
for  it,  and  I  wish  the  company  would  come." 

"  But,  my  child,  you  are  too  young." 

"  If  I'm  too  young,  where  do  you  find  your  old  folks  ?  "  says 
the  saucy  thing,  shaking  out  her  ribbons. 

"  Cousin  E.  E.,  I  would  not  permit  it,"  says  I,  for  I  couldn't 
help  speaking  to  save  my  life.  "  She  isn't  of  an  age  to  go  into 
company."  • 

"  Well,  you  are  old  enough,  and  a  good  deal  to  spare,"  says 
the  impudent  thing.  "  No  mistake  about  that !  " 

I  drew  up  the  train  of  my  pink  silk  dress,  and  walked  across 
the  room  in  a  way  that  spoke  my  indignation,  without  words. 
When  I  turned  to  go  back  that  creature  was  right  behind  me, 
with  her  head  up,  measuring  off  the  carpet,  step  by  step,  with 
me. 

Sisters,  T  confess  it,  the  strangling  of  that  child  would  have 
done  me  a  world  of  good  ;  my  fingers  quivered  to  begin.  But 
she  just  burst  out  a-laughing,  and,  would  you  believe  it?  her 
mother  laughed  too,  but  turned  red  as  fire  when  I  caught  her 
at  it.  • 

Before  anything  more  could  be  said,  Cousin  Dempster  came 
in,  and  the  door-bell  kept  up  such  a  ringing,  that  we  were  in  a 
flutteration  till,  one  after  another,  the  company  came  in ; 
ladies  and  gentlemen  dressed  up  as  if  it  had  been  a  ball  they 
were  invited  to. 


Dining  in  the  Dark.  95 


XXI. 

DINING    IN   THE    DARK. 

]ISTERS,  I'm  afraid  you  would  be  taken  aback  by  such 
dresses  as  filled  Cousin  Dempster's  parlors  that  night. 
Such  necks,  such  arms,  no  sleeves  to  speak  of, 
nothing  but  a  skimpy  band  across  the  shoulders ;  heads  loaded 
down  with  braids  and  puffs,  and  great,  long  curls,  which  fell 
on  those  bare  necks  and  covered  them  up  into  a  little  decency. 
Then  the  figures — mercy,  how  the  dresses  stood  out  behind ; 
every  lady  seemed  to  be  humpbacked  below  the  waist.  It 
takes  time  to  get  used  to  genteel  society,  I  can  tell  you,  and 
any  amount  of  blushing  has  to  be  gone  through. 

Well,  when  we  had  all  got  together,  Cousin  Dempster  came 
up  to  me  and  crooked  his  elbow.  I  put  my  hand  on  his  arm. 
The  glass  doors  opened  as  if  of  themselves,  and  into  the 
dining-room  we  went.  The  other  ladies  and  gentlemen  all 
locked  arms,  and  followed  us  in  good  order.  Cousin  Dempster 
whispered  to  me  as  I  went  in, 

"  The  dinner  is  given  to  you,  remember." 

I  said  yes,  I  would  remember.  I  hadn't  even  thought  of 
paying  for  it,  but  I  suppose  he  wanted  to  set  my  mind  at  rest 
on  that  point,  which  was  kind,  but  unnecessary,  as  we  never 
charge  for  meals  in  Vermont,  except  at  taverns. 

"  They  were  all  invited  to  meet  you,"  says  he,  at  which  I 
just  turned  round  and  made  a  low  curtsey  to  the  whole  lot 
of  'em,  before  I  took  my  seat,  which  was  at  Cousin  Dempster's 
right  hand. 

On  the  other  side  was  a  proper,  pretty  girl,  with  a  neck  like 
water-lilies,  and  cheeks  like  ever-blooming  roses.  She  was  a 
girl  that  laughed  very  low,  when  she  did  laugh,  and  looked  at 
gentlemen  sideways  from  under  her  eyelashes.  One  of  those 
girls  that  speak  as  if  ice  cream  would  not  melt  in  their  mouths. 
An  awful  handsome  young  fellow  came  with  her. 


96  Dining  in  the  Dark. 

Well,  we  all  stood  up  waiting  for  Cousin  E.  E.  to  sit  down, 
which  she  did.  Then  the  rest  of  us  rustled  into  our  places, 
and  half  a  dozen  waiters  went  circumventing  round  us  with 
little  oysters,  shells  and  all,  on  plates,  which  they  set  down 
before  each  of  us,  with  a  teinty  silver  pitchfork  to  eat  'em 
with.  Then  they  brought  plates  with  a  few  spoonfuls  of  soup 
in  them,  which  they  cleared  away  the  minute  we  laid  down 
our  spoons.  After  that,  came  plate  after  plate,  and  the  waiters 
kept  tilling  the  glasses  that  stood  before  us — pink,  green,  yel 
low,  and  white — with  cider  that  bubbled  and  sparkled,  and 
made  the  blood  come  faster  and  warmer  into  my  face  every 
time  I  tasted  it. 

At  first  there  hadn't  been  much  talking  ;  but  now  the  ladies 
grew  chipper,  as  so  many  canary  birds,  and  the  men  followed 
-ait. 

Such  soft,  low  laiighing,  and  such  sweet  voices  I  never  heard 
.it  one  table  in  my  life. 

But  while  we  were  all  enjoying  ourselves  so  much,  the  lights 
in  the  glass  balloon  above  us  began  to  flash  up  and  down,  as 
if  a  high  wind  was  rushing  over  them.  Then  all  at  once  they 
quivered — winked  furiously,  as  if  they  were  joking  with  us — 
and  went  out,  leaving  us  all  in  stone  darkness. 

Then  the  ladies  shrieked  faintly,  or  laughed  ;  some  of  them 
jumped  up,  I  among  the  rest,  wondering  if  the  Day  of  Judg 
ment  had  come. 

Cousin  Dempster  called  out  for  the  waiters  to  go  and  see 
what  ailed  the  gas,  and  all  was  rustle  and  bustle  and  confu 
sion. 

Perhaps  I  moved  from  my  seat  and  dropped  into  some  other 
without  knowing  it.  I  can't  be  certain  about  that  or  anything 
else  ;  but  all  at  once  I  felt  an  arm  around  my  waist,  and  while 
I  was  holding  my  breath,  with  astonishment,  some  one  kissed 
me. 

I  gave  a  little  scream,  and  pushed  away  that  impudent  arm 
with  all  my  might. 

The  arm  wore  a  coat-sleeve — I  can  take  my  oath  to  that — 


Dining  in  the  Dark.  97 

and  if  I  was  used  to  such  things  I  should  say  that  there  was  a 
beard  about  the  lips  that  touched  my  face. 

Sisters,  it  seemed  to  me  for  a  minute  as  if  Cousin  E.  E. 
really  had  got  a  roaring  lion,  in  her  dining-room. 

While  I  sat  there  breathless  and  wondering  if  he  would  have 
the  impudence  to  repeat  that  audacious  conduct,  a  soft  hand 
took  hold  of  mine,  and  a  sweet  voice  whispered  in  my  ear : 

"  Forgive  me,  dearest,  I  did  not  mean  to  be  rude." 

I  did  not  speak,  but  his  penitence  touched  me  with  compas 
sion.  Softly  I  pressed  the  hand,  in  token  of  a  relenting  heart. 
How  could  I  be  hard  on  a  man  who  meant  no  real  harm,  con 
sidering  the  temptation. 

He  whispered  something  more,  but  I  could  not  hear  dis 
tinctly  ;  for  just  then  a  waiter  came  in  with  a  candle  in  his 
hand.  Says  he,  "  The  gas  works  are  blown  up,  and  all  Murray 
Hill,  and  more  too,  is  in  total  darkness." 

Then  there  was  a  burst  of  voices;  everybody  laughed  and 
everybody  had  something  to  say,  which  no  one  listened  to. 

"  Bring  candles,"  Cousin  Dempster  sung  out. 

"  But  the  candlesticks — we  have  not  got  one  in  the  house," 
says  his  wife. 

Then  everybody  laughed,  and  Cousin  Dempster  laughed 
loudest  of  all. 

"  Find  something,"  says  he,  "  for  we  must  have  light." 

The  waiter,  says  he,  "  Yes,  sir,  we'll  do  our  best,"  and  out 
he  went. 

By  and  by  he  comes  back,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  waiters 
with  him.  Every  one  had  a  stone  beer  bottle  in  each  hand, 
from  which  a  tall  white  candle  rose  like  a  steeple  to  a  church. 
There  was  not  a  smile  on  their  faces. 

City  waiters  are  never  expected  to  smile,  but  each  man  set 
his  two  bottles  down  on  the  table,  and  drew  back. 

Dempster  burst  out  laughing ;  the  rest  burst  out  too ;  some 
giggled,  some  choked,  some  pealed  out  the  fun  that  was  in  them 
like  wedding  bells. 

Everybody  laughed  except  rne  and  an  elegant  young  gentle- 
5 


98  Dining  in  the  Dark. 

man,  with  blue  eyes  and  a  soft  beard,  that  sat  next  me.  He 
stared  in  my  face,  and  I  would  have  stared  in  his,  only  I 
couldn't  bring,  myself  to  look  in  his  eyes. 

Oh,  sisters,  it  was  dreadful !  I  had  got  into  that  young 
girl's  place  and  she  was  in  mine,  and  a  teinty  bit  of  court- 
plaster  that  I  had  put  on  the  corner  of  my  mouth,  where  the 
skin  had  been  a  trifle  rubbed,  was  sticking  right  on  the  plump 
est  part  of  his  under  lip. 

Oh,  sisters !  I  thought  that  I  should  have  died  with  shame. 

He  looked  from  me  to  the  young  lady,  and  she  looked  at 
him.  I  looked  first  at  one,  then  at  the  other,  from  under  my 
drooping  lashes. 

She  smiled,  she  touched  her  lip  with  one  finger ;  he  touched 
his,  the  mite  of  court-plaster  stuck  on  his  finger.  Then  she 
began  to  laugh,  and  so  did  he ;  the  chairs  shook  under  them. 
They  made  no  noise,  and  the  redness  of  their  faces  was  lost 
in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  beer-bottles  to  every  one  but 
me. 

Cousin  Dempster  was  busy  trying  to  crowd  an  extra  candle 
into  one  of  the  wine-bottles  that  had  just  been  emptied, 
while  he  sat  before  the  chair  I  ought  to  have  been  sitting  in. 

"  We  must  have  a  little  more  elegance  at  this  end  of  the 
table,"  says  he. 

"  Wax  candles  and  champagne  bottles  for  this  lady." 

He  stooped  down,  expecting  me  to  answer  him ;  when  he 
saw  her  face  all  glowing  with  blushes. 

lf  Ah !  "  says  he,  laughing,  "  we  have  got  a  little  mixed  here, 
Cousin  Frost.  It  will  never  answer  to  come  between  man 
and  wife  in  this  fashion,  especially  when  they  have  been  only 
three  weeks  married.  Supposing  we  change  round  again  ?  " 

I  arose — she  arose — we  exchanged  glances,  then  exchanged 
seats. 

The  lights  from  these  beer  bottles  were  numerous,  but  not 
brilliant.  Under  the  shadows  we  concealed  the  emotions  which 
disturbed  us. 

He  looked  funnily  penitent,  whenever  his  eyes  caught  mine, 


New   Year's  Day.  99 

which  was  often,  for  somehow  I  could  not  keep  looking  on  my 
plate  all  the  time. 

As  for  that  young  creature,  she  seemed  to  be  brimming  over 
with  fun. 

After  a  little,  I  began  to  feel  myself  smiling.  It  really  was 
droll,  but  not  so  very  unpleasant. 


XXII. 

NEW  YEAR'S  DAY. 

fEAR  SISTERS  :— After  all,  this  city  of  New  York  is 
a  wonderful  institution.  Vermont  has  its  specialties, 
such  as  maple-sugar,  pine  shingles,  and  education ;  but 
in  such  things  as  style,  fashion,  and  general  gentilities,  I  must 
say  this  great  Empire  City  isn't  to  be  sneezed  at,  even  by  a 
Green  Mountainer.  Of  course  we  are  ahead  in  religion,  mo 
rality,  decorum,  and  a  kind  of  politics  tliat  consolidates  all  these 
things  into  great  moral  ideas — as  rusticoats,  greenings  and  Spit- 
zenbergen  apples  are  ground  down  into  one  barrel  of  such 
sweet  cider  as  we  used  to  steal  through  the  bunghole  with  a 
straw.  You  will  recollect  the  straws — a  Down-east  invention, 
which  these  degenerated  Yorkers  have  stolen,  and  are  now 
using  unblushingly  for  mint-juleps,  sherry-cobblers,  and  such 
awful  drinks  as  New  England  has  put  her  foot  down  against 
with  a  stamp  that  makes  inebriating  individuals  shake  in  their 
boots.  But  New  York  won't  put  her  foot  down,  and  the  en 
croachment  upon  our  patent-right  for  straws  is  just  winked  at. 
Dear  me,  how  one  thing  does  lead  a  person's  mind  into 
another !  I  took  up  my  pen  to  write  about  New  Year's  Day 
in  New  York,  and  here  I  am,  back  in  that  old  cider-mill  behind 
our  orchard,  with  heaps  of  red  and  yellow  apples  piled  up  in 
the  grass,  and  the  old  blind  horse  moving  round  and  round  in 


ioo  New   Year's  Day. 

the  mill-ring,  dragging  along  that  great  wooden  wheel,  under 
\vhich  we  could  hear  the  soft -gushing  squelch  of  the  apples, 
while  all  the  air  smelt  rich  and  fruity  with  them. 

Do  you  remember  the  luscious  juice  dropping  from  the  press, 
and  the  full  barrels  lying  about,  with  the  sweetness  beginning 
to  yeast  through  the  bungholes  ?  Then  it  was  we  pounced 
down  upon  them  with  our  straws,  and  it  was  these  straws  that 
brought  New  Year's  Day  in  New  York  and  the  old  cider-mill 
at  home  into  my  mind  at  once.  Thus  it  is,  my  sisters,  with  us 
children  of  genius;  thought  is  born  of  thought,  feeling  springs 
out  of  feeling,  till  creation  and  re-creation  become  spontaneosi- 
ties. 

Some  people  have  said  of  Phcemie  Frost  that  she  lacks  phil 
osophy  and  that  transcendental  essence  which  becomes  the 
highest  female  type  in  New  England.  If  any  such  caviler 
should  reach  our  Society,  have  the  moral  courage  to  point  out 
that  last  paragraph,  and  see  if  the  wretches  have  forgotten  to 
blush  for  themselves. 

Christmas  Day  isn't  anything  very  particular  outside  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,  in  our  parts.  Somehow  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
took  a  notion  against  it  when  they  cut  away  from  the  old  coun 
try,  and  built  square  meeting-houses  all  over  New  England. 
But  they  set  up  the  same  thing  under  a  new-fangled  name. 
Thanksgiving  was  just  the  same  to  them,  and  showed  their  in 
dependence  ;  so  they  roasted  and  baked  and  stewed,  and  made 
pumpkin-pies  a  specialty — because  the  cavaliers  in  England 
couldn't  get  pumkins  to  compete  with  them — and  went  into 
their  meeting-houses  to  thank  God  that  they  had  good  crops, 
instead  of  going  down  on  their  knees — which  they  didn't,  be 
cause  of  standing  up  to  pray — in  solemn  gratitude  that  the 
blessed  Lord  was  born  upon  earth. 

Sisters,  as  a  New  England  female,  it  would  be  against  nature 
to  say  that  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  wasn't  right  in  sinking  Christ 
mas  in  Thanksgiving,  and  thanking  God  for  full  crops,  because 
the  corn  and  potatoes  were  things  they  all  could  understand 
and  accept  with  universal  thankfulness ;  but  about  the  birth  of 


New   Year's 


Christ,  and  its  merciful  object,  no  two  sects  that  I  ever  heard 
of  could  agree,  much  less  the  Old  Church  and  the  New  Cove 
nanters. 

There  it  is  again  ;  my  pen  is  getting  demoralized.  Christmas 
has  come  and  gone.  What  more  have  I  got  to  say  about  it  ? 
Why,  just  nothing.  Wise  people  accept  the  past  and  look  for 
ward. 

Cousin  Dempster  insisted  upon  it,  that  I  should  come  up  and 
spend  New  Year's  Day  with  them.  Cousin  E.  E.  was  going  to 
receive  calls,  and  wanted  some  distinguished  friend  to  help  her 
entertain. 

I  went. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  empty  carriage  came  down  to  my 
boarding-house,  with  those  two  regimental  chaps  on  the  out 
seat. 

I  was  all  ready,  with  my  pink  silk  dress  on,  and  my  front 
hair  all  in  one  lovely  friz  ;  but  I  just  let  the  carriage  wait  that 
the  boarders  and  people,  with  their  faces  against  the  window 
opposite,  might  have  a  good  chance  to  look  at  it.  Then  I 
walked  down  the  stairs  with  queenly  slowness  ;  the  long  skirt 
of  my  dress  came  a-rustling  after,  with  a  rich  sound  that  must 
have  penetrated  to  the  boarding-house  parlor,  for  the  door  was 
just  a  trifle  open  as  I  went  by,  and  three  faces,  I  could  swear  to, 
were  peeping  out  as  if  they  had  never  seen  a  long-trailed,  pink 
silk  dress  before.  Then  I  heard  a  scuttling  toward  the  window, 
and,  while  I  stood  on  the  upper  step,  gathering  up  the  back 
cataract  of  my  dress,  those  same  faces  flattened  themselves 
plump  against  the  glass. 

Of  course  I  did  not  hurry  myself  on  that  account,  but  took 
<m  observation  up  and  down  the  street  while  I  tightened  the 
outtons  of  my  glove,  though  one  of  the  regimental  chaps  was  a- 
standing  there  and  holding  the  door  wide  open. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  give  the  poor  things  just  this  one  glimpse 
of  the  fashionable  life  to  which  genius  has  lifted  me,"  says  I  to 
myself. 

Influenced  by  this  idea,  I  paused,  perhaps,  half  a  minute, 


102  Th*  New  Yearns  Reception. 

with  my  foot  on  the  iron  step,  and  asked  the  regimental  chap, 
with  the  air  of  a  queen  giving  directions,  if  it  was  very  cold  ? 
and  if  Mrs.  Dempster  was  quite  well,  that  morning? 

He  bowed  when  he  answered  both  these  questions,  with  the 
greatest  respect ;  which  was  satisfactory,  as  the  people  on  both 
sides  must  have  seen  him  do  it. 

Then  I  stepped  gracefully  into  the  carriage  and  sat  down, 
buried  to  my  knees  in  billows  of  pink  silk.  Over  that  I  drew 
the  robe  of  white  fur,  and  waved  my  hand,  as  much  as  to  say: 
I  am  seated ;  you  can  close  the  door.  Which  he  did. 

One  thing  is  curious  about  the  streets  of  New  York  on  New 
Year's  Day.  Not  a  woman  or  girl  is  to  be  seen  on  the  side 
walks. 

The  garden  of  Eden,  before  Adam  went  into  the  spare-rib 
business,  wouldn't  have  been  more  completely  given  up  to  the 
desolation  of  manhood,  unrefined  by  sweet  female  influence. 

But  every  man  that  I  saw,  going  up  or  down,  looked 
bright  and  smiling,  as  if  he  expected  to  find  an  Eve  of  his 
own  before  the  day  was  over,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  a 
good  many  of  them  did. 


XXIII. 

THE  NEW  YEAR'S  RECEPTION. 

JOUSIN  E.  E.  DEMPSTER  was  all  ready,  and  standing 
as  large  as  life  in  one  end  of  her  long  parlor,  when  I 
went  in.  The  first  sight  of  that  room  made  me  start 
back  and  scream  right  out.  I  had  left  daylight  outside,  but 
found  night  there.  The  blinds  were  shut  close  to  every  win 
dow.  Over  them  fell  a  snow-storm  of  white  lace,  and  over  that 
a  cataract  of  silk  that  seemed  to  have  been  dyed  in  wine,  its 
redness  was  so  rich  and  wavy. 


The  New   Years  Reception.  103 

The  two  great  glass  balloons  were  just  running  over  with 
brightness  that  scattered  itself  everywhere— on  the  chairs,  the 
cushions,  t*he  carpet,  and  a  great  round  sofa  which  stood,  like 
a  giant  cheese,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  all  covered  with  silk, 
and  with  a  tall  flower-pot  standing  up  from  the  centre,  run 
ning  over  with  flowers,  and  vines,  and  things. 

This  queer  sofa,  that  seemed  to  have  burst  out  into  blossom 
for  the  occasion,  was  a  New  Year's  present,  Cousin  E.  E.  said, 
and  quite  a  surprise.  «  Then  there  is  another,"  says  she,  a- 
pointing  towards  a  marble  man,  dressed  in  a  grape  leaf,  that 
seemed  to  have  been  firing  something  at  the  stone  girl,  and  was 
watching  to  see  if  it  had  hit.  "Of  course  you  have  seen  the 
Apollo  before  ?  " 

I  looked  at  the  stone  fellow  sideways,  then  dropped  my 

eyes. 

« I_I  don't  know,"  says  I ;  "  maybo  I  should  know  him 
better  if  he  had  his  clothes  on." 

"  Look  again.     You  must  have  seen  him,"  says  she. 

"  No,"  says  I,  a-turning  my  head  away ;  "  I— I'd  rather  not 
till  he  goes  out  and  fixes  himself  up  a  little." 

Cousin  E.  E.  laughed  till  her  face  was  red.  While  she  was 
tittering  like  a  chirping  bird,  that  little  creature  Cecilia  came 
tripping  into  the  room,  with  a  blue  silk  dress,  ruffled  over  with 
white  lace,  just  reaching  to  her  knees,  her  yellow  hair  a-rippling 
over  that,  clear  down  behind,  and  a  wreath  of  pink  roses  on 
her  head.  She  looked  at  me  from  top  to  toe,  gave  her  head  a 
toss,  and  went  up  to  her  mother  with  the  air  of  an  injured 
princess. 

&  That  old  pink  silk  again  !  What  did  yon  let  let  her  wear 
it  for  ?  New  Year's  Day,  too.  The  idea  !  " 

I  heard  every  word  of  it,  for  the  stuck-up  thing  didn't 
trouble  herself  to  speak  low.  My  face  had  been  hot  enough 
before,  but  it  burned  like  fire  now,  and  my  bosom  heaved  till 
ifcstormed  against  my  dress  and  almost  burst  it. 

"  Hush  1 "  said  Cousin  E.  E.,  looking  scared ;  "she  will 
hear." 


104  The  New   Year's  Reception. 

11  Well,  let  her.     As  if  I  cared  !     The  idea  !  " 

I  stepped  forward,  with  my  finger  lifted,  and  my  dress 
sweeping.  It  must  have  been  an  imposing  sight,  for  E.  E. 
raised  both  hands,  imploringly,  and  says  she,  "  Cecilia,  come 
and  see  your  father's  present." 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  gorgeous  ?  "  sang  out  the  child,  clasping  her 
hands,  and  turning  her  back  square  on  me  while  she  went  up 
to  the  stone  fellow.  "  Such  a  splendid  mate  for  Venus !  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  says  I  sarcastically  ;  "  only  Miss 
Venus  does  seem  ashamed  of  herself;  but  the  fellow  is  bold  as 
brass." 

The  girl's  lip  curled  like  an  opening  rose-bud ;  she  gave  a 
nipping  laugh,  and  I  just  heard  "  old  fogy  "  break  through  it 
so  saucily  that  my  blood  riled. 

"  Did  you  apply  that  to  me  ?  "  says  I,  a-liftiiig  my  finger. 

"  No,  no,  nothing  of  the  kind,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  catching 
her  breath.  "  You  quite  misunderstand  Cecilia.  Dear  me, 
that  is  a  carriage ;  people  are  beginning  to  call.  Cecilia,  my 
love,  do  try  and  make  yourself  agreeable." 

"  Just  as  much  as  to  say  that  I  could  be  anything  else,"  says 
the  aggravating  creature,  a-hitching  up  her  shoulders. 

Sure  enough,  some  one  was  coming,  and  no  three  canary 
birds  in  a  cage  ever  fluttered  into  their  places  quicker  than  we 
did.  Cousin  E.  E.  seated  herself  in  a  great  cosey  chair,  all 
cushions,  spread  out  her  dress  on  the  floor,  and  leaned  a  little 
sideways  as  if  she  was  sitting  to  Brady  for  a  picture.  I  gave 
my  pink  silk  a  wide  swoop,  and  let  it  settle  down  on  the  carpet 
in  ridges ;  then  I  leaned  my  elbow  on  the  silk  cushions  of  the 
great  round  sofa,  and  drooped  my  head  a  little  as  if  breathing  the 
scent  of  so  many  flowers  had  made  me  a  trifle  faint.  That  child 
ran  to  the  glass,  shook  out  her  lace  ruffles,  and  stepped  back 
again  to  admire — well,  her  limbs— just  as  if  she  had  been  a 
stone  girl,  and  was  in  love  with  herself.  I  swan  to  man  she 
made  me  sick  and  faint,  if  the  flowers  didn't. 

There  was  a  noise  in  the  hall- way,  and  I  caught  a  peep  at  a 
handsome  young  fellow  prinking  himself  in  the  great  looking- 


The  New   Year's  Reception.  105 

glass  set  in  the  hat-stand.     Then  he  came  in,  tripping  along 
with  his  hand  held  out  to  Cousin  E.  B.,  who  went  forward  wit. 
her  train  following  after,  took  his  lilac  glove  in  her  hand,  smile 
up  in  his  face,  and  said  how  glad  she  was  to  see  him. 

Before  he  could  answer,  that  forward  child  came  up  and  held 
out  her  hand.  She,  too,  was  delighted;  wondered  he  hadn  t 
been  there  lately.  Indeed,  she  began  to  think  he  was  never 

coming  again. 

The  youn*  fellow  did  seem  to  be  taken  aback  a  minute,  fc 
the  forward  creature  had  just  cut  her  mother  out ;  but  he  soon 
be«an  to  talk  and  laugh  with  her  as  chipper  as  could  be,  anc 
only  stopped  to  give  me  a  nip  of  a  bow  when  C 

troduced  him. 

Well  my  opinion  is  I  gave  him  as  good  as  he  sent ;  but  short 
measure  at  that ;  for  I  just  lifted  my  head  as  if  taking  a  smfl 
at  the  flowers,  and  that  was  all.     If  that  young  man  thought  I 
was  brought  up  in  the  woods  to  be  scared  by  owls,  he  found  < 
his  mistake.     He  was  standing  with  his  back  towards  me  when 
I  heard  E.  E.  say,  in  one  of  those  whispers  that  cut  tc 
keener  than  a  scream :  ^ 

« It  is  Miss  Phcsmie  Frost,  the  celebrated  writer. 
«  What,"  says  he,  "  Miss  Frost,  the  person  on  whom  the 
Grand  Duke  levelled  his  eye-glass  at  the  opera  three  times,  and 
who  was  prevented  opening  the  ball  with  him  by  the  mach 
tions  of  the  committee  ?  " 

«  The  same,"  says  Cousin  E.  E. 

Before  she  could  put  in  another  word,  that  young  gentleman 
had  wheeled  round  in  his  patent  leather  boots,  and  was  making 
me  a  bow  that  went  so  near  the  floor  that  his  lilac  gloves 
below  his  knees.     Then  he  rose  slowly,  like  a  jack-knife  that 
opens  hard,  and  stood  there  a-smiling  in  my  face  as  if 
just  treated  him  to  a  quart  of  maple  molasses  fresh  from  tl 

kettle. 

«  Miss  Frost,"  says  he,  «  I'm  happy  to  make  your  acqua 
ance;  your  writings  have  been  myjdelight-in  fact,  a  h 
hold  word  in  our  family— for  years." 

5* 


106  The  New   Year's  Reception. 

"Years?  "says  I. 

"  That  is,  ever  since  you  began  to  honor  the  world  with  the 
emanations  of  your  genius,"  says  he,  with  an  open  wave  of  both 
hands. 

I  bowed.  I  half  rose  from  that  round  sofa.  I  knew  by  the 
soft,  quivering  sensation  that  smiles  were  creeping  to  my  lips, 
and  giving  them  a  lovely  redness. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  you  are  complimentary.  I  am  but  a  young 
beginner  in  the  paths  of  literature — a  timid  worker  in  the  great 
harvest  field  of  thought." 

He  smiled ;  he  moved  the  billowy  folds  of  my  dress  with  in 
finite  reverence,  and  seated  himself  timidly  beside  me.  Then 
he  talked  books  to  me — broken  and  fragmentary,  but  exquisite. 
He  could  understand  why  the  Grand  Duke  was  so  anxious  to 
get  back  to  New  York.  That  poetry  of  mine  must  have  lifted 
him  right  off  from  his  feet.  What  a  lovely  talent  poetry 
was! 

I  sat  upright,  but  looked  downward,  hiding  the  pleasure  in 
my  eyes  by  my  drooping  lashes.  Faithful,  heart  and  soul,  to 
one  noble  being,  I  refused  to  look  into  the  admiring  eyes  of 
another.  His  insidious  praises  of  my  genius  made  no  impres 
sion.  The  image  of  a  man  six  feet  two,  with  a  sky-blue  scarf 
across  his  princely  bosom,  stood  at  the  portal  of  my  heart,  and 
the  young  gentleman  with  curled  hair  and  that  light-colored 
mustache  sighed,  and  sighed  in  vain. 

That  forward  little  creature,  Cecilia,  saved  me  from  tempta 
tion.  Up  she  came,  with  her  frock  and  her  hair  all  in  a  flutter. 

"  You  haven't  seen  our  new  statue,"  says  she,  a-pulling  at 
his  hand. 

The  young  gentleman  arose  from  my  side  with  a  look  that 
went  to  my  heart.  As  he  stood  before  that  pre- Adamite  stone 
man,  I  got  one  good,  long  look  at  his  face.  As  true  as  I  live, 
he  had  found  out  some  of  Cousin  E.  E.Vways  of  making  her 
self  beautiful !  for  his  eyes  had  shadows  under  them,  and  his 
cheeks  were  like  roses.  Now,  sisters,  did  you  ever?  Only 
think  of  a  Green  Mountain  fellow  doing  that ! 


The  New   Year's  Reception.  107 

But  now  another  lot  of  men  came  in,  dressed  up  to  kill. 
Some  had  yellow  kid  gloves  on,  some  lilac,  and  some  gray. 
Their  patent-leather  boots  shone  like  looking-glasses,  and  some 
of  'em  tipped  along  as  if  they  were  treading  over  eggs  and 
didn't  mean  to  break  'em.  Cousin  E.  E.  introduced  them  all, 
and  I  had  to  rise,  and  bow,  and  make  long,  sweeping  curtsies 
till  my  back  ached,  and  my  poor  mouth  felt  dry  with  trying  to 
look  unconscious  when  so  many  of  'em  told  me  I  was  a  house 
hold  word  in  their  families. 

When  the  first  lot  of  'em  were  going  out,  Cousin  E.  E.  just 
put  back  the  red  curtains  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  behind 
'em  was  a  table  all  set  off  with  silver,  and  glass,  and  flowers, 
and  great,  tall  dishes  crowded  full  of  fruit  and  mottoes,  all 
standing  under  the  hot  sunshine  of  one  of  those  glass  balloons, 
a -glittering  and  a-flashing  like  a  house  afire. 

I  couldn't  help  giving  a  little  scream,  it  was  all  so  rich  and 
beautiful — with  two  colored  waiters  in  white  gloves,  ready  to 
help  everybody. 

Cousin  E.  E.  stood  at  one  end  of  the  table — for  it  was  a 
stand-up  meal- — and  asked  her  visitors  to  take  birds,  and  oys 
ters,  and  terrapin.  What  the  dickens  is  terrapin  ?  Have  you 
any  idea,  sisters  ?  I  ate  some,  and  it  had  a  stewy  sort  of  taste, 
as  if  it  had  been  kind  of  burnt  in  cooking. 

Well,  one  took  one  thing,  and  one  another.  Then  each  fel 
low  wiped  his  mustaches,  and  the  waiters  came  round  with 
cider  bottles,  loaded  over  and  chained  up  with  silver,  and  the 
cider  hissed  and  bubbled  and  sparkled  as  they  poured  it  out 
into  the  glasses,  that  started  narrow  at  the  bottom,  but  spread 
out  into  dishes  at  the  top,  giving  a  chance  for  little  whirlpools 
to  the  cider — which  was  cider,  I  can  tell  you  ;  it  had  vim 
enough  in  it  to  make  your  eyes  snap. 

When  the  glasses  were  full  we  all  took  them  up.  The  gen 
tlemen  muttered  "  Compliments  of  the  season,"  and  we  answered 
"  Compliments  of  the  season  "  Cecilia  and  all — who  just  had 
the  impudence  to  stand  on  tip-toe,  and  knock  her  glass  against 
that  of  the  fellow  with  lilac  gloves  and  curly  hair.  Then  we 


Ip8       Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera. 

all  drank  and  sipped,  and,  as  that  party  went  off,  another  came 
in — stream  after  stream — till  night.  It  was  the  same  thing 
over  and  over  again,  till  ten  o'clock  at  night,  when  Mr.  Demp 
ster  came  home,  looking  awfully  tired  out ;  then  we  just  gave 
up.  Sisters,  this  has  been  the  hardest  and  most  confusing  day 
that  I  have  known  in  New  York.  It  seems  as  if  my  joints 
never  would  get  limber  again.  But  then  I  had  a  real  good 
time,  though  the  cider  did  begin  to  get  into  my  head  towards 
night.  It  couldn't  have  been  made  out  of  Vermont  apples,  I 
feel  certain — they  haven't  got  so  much  dizziness  in  'em. 


XXIV. 

MIGNON:  A  NIGHT  AT  THE  GRAND  OPERA. 

JISTERS,  we  went  to  the  opera — that  is,  dear  sisters 
in  the  cause,  the  Grand  Duke  and  I  were  there ; 
both  of  us  seated  on  red  cushions,  and  so  near  that 
we  could  exchange  glances  through  our  eye-glasses,  which  draw 
a  beloved  object  close  to  you.  They  are  a  great  invention  which 
has  not  yet  reached  that  portion  of  the  country  where  prayer- 
meetings  take  the  place  of  operas. 

I  felt  in  my  bones  that  he  would  meet  me  there  ;  and  when 
Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  sent  me  word  that  she  had  got  a  loge 
— which  means  a  little  square  pen  in  the  gallery,  cushioned  off 
like  a  first-class  pew — and  wanted  me  to  go  with  her  to  hear 
the  great  primer-donner,  I  just  got  that  dress  out  again,  and 
set  the  frizzing-pins  to  work,  and  did  myself  up  so  scrump- 
tiously  that  I  don't  believe  that  a  creature  on  Sprucehill  would 
have  known  me.  Don't  say  this  is  extravagant,  and  flying  in 
the  face  of  Providence.  If  He  don't  want  silk  dresses  worn 
by  the  elect,  what  on  earth  does  He  make  silk-worms  and  mul 
berry-leaves  for  ?  That  is  a  question  that  we'll  have  debated 


Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera.        109 

over  in  the  Society  some  day.  Until  then,  oblige  me  by  not 
saying,  openly,  that  I'm  a  free-thinker,  because  I'm  nothing  of 
the  sort.  Not  that  my  taste,  since  coming  to  the  opera,  has 
not  got  a  notch  above  Greenbank  or  Old  Hundred,  in  the  way 
of  music  ;  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  has. 

Well,  Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  had  sent  word  that  I  mustn't 
wear  a  bonnet,  or  think  of  such  a  thing ;  and  she  sent  me  down 
a  fur  mantle,  made  of  white  kitten-skins,  I  reckon,  with  little 
black  tails  dropping  all  over  it — just  the  tips,  which  needn't 
have  hurt  the  black  kittens  much,  if  it  was  all  day  to  the  white 
ones.  So,  when  I  come  down,  holding  up  my  long  skirts  with 
one  hand,  and  folding  this  fur  across  my  innocent  bosom,  she 
just  screamed  out  from  the  carriage  that  I  looked  gorgeous 
enough  to  turn  the  great  Grand  Duke's  head,  which  I  felt  to  be 
true — for  women  are  not  given  to  praising  each  other  for  noth 
ing,  anyhow. 

The  opera-house  in  New  York  would  take  in  our  biggest 
meeting-house,  and  leave  room  for  a  wide  strip  of  carpeting 
all  round  it.  It  has  got  three  galleries,  and  ever  so  many 
places,  that  look  like  pulpits  and  deacon's  seats,  all  cushioned 
and  curtained  off  beautifully. 

We  went  up  to  the  first  gallery,  and  got  into  Cousin  Demp 
ster's  loge-pew,  which  was  just  big  enough  for  four  people. 
This  was  fortunate,  for  our  skirts  and  fur  mantles  took  up 
every  mite  of  room  that  Cousin  D.  did  not  want ;  but  he  put 
up  with  it  beautifully,  and  just  scrouched  down  behind  us,  with 
his  head  rising  above  our  shoulders,  which  would  have  been 
rather  uncovered  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  fur,  which  tickled 
mine  a  little  ;  but  I  bore  it  with  fortitude.  You  who  know  me 
will  understand  that. 

The  opera-house  was  crowded  full ;  every  pew  was  crammed, 
and  the  benches  down  below  couldn't  be  seen,  the  people  were 
so  thi,ck.  The  pew  loges  were  running  over  with  handsome 
girls,  and  old  ladies  that  tried  their  best  to  look  like  girls,  and 
couldn't,  not  having  the  country  freshness  that  some  people 
bring  with  them  from  the  mountains. 


no       Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera. 

But  the  three  pulpits  on  the  second  gallery  were  empty  yet — 
all  empty,  and  gorgeously  red,  waiting  for  him. 

At  last,  a  great  green  curtain  that  hung  just  beyond  this 
sacred  place  rolled  up.  The  lights  in  a  great  glittering  balloon, 
all  hung  with  ropes  of  shiny  glass  beads  which  fell  down  from  the 
centre  of  the  roof,  blazed  up,  and  when  I  dropped  my  head  from 
looking  at  it,  all  the  other  end  of  the  room  was  crowded  with 
a  gang  of  the  queerest-looking  people — men,  women,  children, 
and  dogs — that  ever  you  did  see.  That  was  the  opera,  Cousin 
E.  E.  said;  though  how  an  opera  could  have  a  house  and  a 
cart  in  it,  beat  me. 

Well,  sisters,  I  give  up.  Roll  every  singing-school  in  Vermont 
into  one  crowd,  and  they  couldn't  begin  to  burst  out  like  that ; 
men,  women,  and  girls,  just  went  in  for  a  splendid  time,  and  they 
had  it.  First,  a  pew  full  of  fiddlers,  drummers,  tromboners, 
and  bas-violers,  let  themselves  out  in  a  storrn  of  music  that 
made  the  ten  millions  of  beads  on  the  glass  balloons  tremble  like 
hailstones.  Then  the  whole  gang  lifted  up  their  voices,  and 
the  music  rolled  out  just  as  I  reckon  the  water  does  at  Niagara 
Falls.  Such  a  general  training  of  music  was  enough  to  wake 
the  dead  out  of  a  New  England  grave,  where  they  sleep  sound, 
I  guess,  if  they  do  anywhere. 

By  and  by  they  rose  up,  and  began  to  wander  about,  making 
their  funny  little  white  dogs  play,  and  some  of  the  girls  began 
to  dance  about.  It  was  a  travelling-show,  you  see,  and  some 
of  the  upper-crust  people  came  out  of  the  house  I  spoke  of,  and 
listened.  One  was  a  lady,  dressed  out  to  kill  in  a  striped  skirt, 
black  velvet,  and  yellow  silk ;  another  yellow  skirt  bunched 
over  that,  and  then  a  blue  dress  puffed  above  both,  and  her 
hair  just  splendid.  I  tell  you  she  was  a  dasher  ! 

But  the  people  were  all  busy  unloading  the  cart ;  they  took 
out  bundles  and  baskets  and  things.  Finally  a  girl,  that  had 
been  lying  asleep  on  the  load,  jumped  down,  with  her  shoulders 
hitched  up,  and  looking  cross  as  fire  at  everybody  that  came 
near  her.  She  was  barefooted  and  bareheaded,  and  had 
nothing  but  an  under  night-gown  and  petticoat  on,  which 


Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera.        in 

seemed  to  aggravate  lier,  for  she  looked  scowling  enough  at  the 
handsome  young  lady,  and  would  not  double-shuffle  worth  a 
cent,  though  all  the  men  and  women  were  trying  to  make  her. 

The  moment  she  jumped  off  from  the  cart,  the  folks  in  the 
seats  just  ran  crazy,  and  began  clapping  their  hands  and  stamp 
ing  their  feet  like  a  house  afire ;  I  never  saw  people  act  so 
in  my  life.  It  was  enough  to  frighten  the  poor  thing  half  to 
death.  Instead  of  that,  it  seemed  to  tickle  her  mightily,  for 
she  came  forward,  with  her  bare  feet,  and  made  a  little  mincing 
bow,  and  almost  laughed. 

Then  the  strangest  thing  happened.  First  one,  and  then 
another,  of  the  show-people,  instead  of  reasoning  with  the  wil 
ful  creature,  just  went  to  waving  their  arms  and  singing  at 
her.  I  declare  it  was  enough  to  have  made  a  minister  laugh 
when  she  turned,  and  began  to  sing  back  at  them,  sometimes 
spiteful,  and  then,  again,  with  tears  melting  through  her  voice. 
An  old  man  in  gray  clothes,  'that  looked  crazy  as  a  coot,  sung 
at  her,  sort  of  hoarse,  and  mournfully.  Then  a  young  fellow, 
in  a  green  coat  and  high  boots,  dropped  into  the  affair,  and  he 
sung  at  her.  Then  the  handsome  lady  in  blue  and  yellow  burst 
out  and  sang  at  her  too,  filling  the  whole  opera-house  with 
music.  By  watching  and  listening,  I  found  out  this  much. 
This  girl  was  an  orphan,  picked  up  by  the  band  of  players,  that 
made  her  dance  and  sin£  for  her  keeping.  The  fellow  with  the 
green  coat  and  boots  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  bought  her  up,  short 
gown  and  all,  from  the  tribe  of  players.  Then  she  put  on  the 
dress  of  a  pretty  boy,  and  waited  on  the  handsome  woman  in 
yellow,  who  was  one  of  them  actress-women,  and  dead  in  love 
with  the  young  fellow  in  boots.  He  was  awfully  in  love  with 
the  actress  woman  too,  which  just  aggravated  that  girl-boy  out 
of  her  seven  senses,  poor  thing !  When  she  happened  to  wutch 
them  together,  you  should  have  seen  her  fling  down  her  cap, 
and  kick  it  about.  There  was  some  human  nature  in  that,  but 
singing  love  out  before  folks  beats  me.  I  couldn't  bring  my  self 
to  anything  of  the  kind — not  if  the  Grand  Duke  were  standing 
before  me  with  his  arms  out,  shouting  Old  Hundred. 


H2       Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera. 

Goodness  gracious  !  that  girl-boy  had  taken  up  my  thoughts, 
so  that  I  didn't  know  when  the  Grand  Duke  came  into  his  pul 
pit  loge.  But  there  he  was,  standing  up,  and  looking  right 
toward  me,  so  pleasant. 

I  threw  back  my  fur  mantle  a  trifle,  arid  taking  Cousin  E. 
E.'s  fan,  waved  it  gracefully,  hoping  thus  to  cool  off  the  blushes 
that  bathed  my  cheeks  with  a  rosiness  that  I  feared  might  not 
harmonize  with  the  tints  already  there. 

Still  he  looked  my  way  earnestly,  and  with  the  fire  of  admi 
ration  in  his  blue  eyes.  A  young  thing  sitting  in  the  loge-pew 
behind  me  began  to  turn  away  her  head  and  hide  behind  her  fan, 
as  if  she  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  The  conceit  of  some 
people  is  astonishing  ! 

Cousin  E.  E.'s  little  spy-glass  lay  in  her  lap.  I  took  it  up ; 
I  held  it  to  my  eyes,  and  devoured  him  with  one  burning 
glance.  His  heart  seemed  leaping  to  mine  through  the  glass. 
I  knew  it.  I  felt  it.  Indeed  he  won't  be  the  first  of  his  noble 
race  that  has  lost  heart  and  soul  to  a  country  girl. 

The  Prince  sat  down,  and  when  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
music,  clapped  his  hands  with  joy.  Oh,  my  sisters !  it  is 
something  to  have  given  such  supreme  pleasure  to  the  Grand 
Ducal  soul. 

He  looked  at  the  play ;  I  looked  too.  Souls  in  sympathy 
have  but  one  thought.  I  pitied  that  poor  girl-boy  with  all  my 
heart — my  own  happiness  made  me  compassionate.  How  she 
suffered  when  that  woman  with  the  yellow  skirts  and  the  young 
fellow  in  boots  were  singing  love  to  each  other  !  Once  she 
got  wild,  and  dressed  herself  in  a  pink  silk,  and — well,  she 
made  one  of  those  toilets  that  Cousin  E.  E.  understands  so 
well.  I  was  sorry  to  see  her  exposing  one  or  two  little  things 
that /should  be  a  secret  with  the  sex.  But  she  did,  and  the 
yellow  lady  caught  her  at  it,  and  sung  awfully  provoking  things 
at  her. 

Well,  she  just  tore  off  the  dress,  scattered  the  lace  trim 
mings  about,  put  on  her  old  duds,  and  ran  away. 

Then  the  house  got  on  fire ;  the  whole  swarm  of  people  come 


Mignon:  A  Night  at  the  Grand  Opera.        u3 

out  helter-skelter,  singing  to  tlie  flames  that  didn't  mind  the 
music  more  than  if  it  had  been  buckets  full  of  water.  Firemen 
came  running  with  ladders  that  nobody  climbed,  and  pails  of 
water,  that  the  firemen  carried  round  and  round,  in  and  out, 
like  crazy  creatures.  I  am  sure  I  saw  one  fellow,  with  a  white 
pail,  pitch  through  the  same  window  into  the  red-hot  flames 
fifty  times.  The  poor  girl-boy,  being  desperate,  just  pitched 
in,  determined  to  burn  herself,  while  the  woman  in  yellow  and 
the  man  in  boots  looked  on. 

This  went  right  to  the  cruel  man's  heart ;  he  jumped  in  after 
her,  carried  her  away  from  the  devouring  flames,  and  fell  in 
love  with  her  like  a  man.  Of  course,  being  a  decent  kind  of  a 
fellow,  he  couldn't  keep  on  singing  out  his  love  to  both  girls  at 
once  with  enthusiasm,  and  began  to  neglect  the  yellow  girl  in 
a  way  that  brought  tears  into  her  voice  whenever  she  came 
pleading  to  him  under  the  window — which  she  did,  not  having 
the  pride  of  all  the  Frost  family  in  her  veins. 

Of  course  this  did  no  good ;  men  never  come  back  to  wo 
men  that  whine.  The  girl — for  she  had  given  up  boys'  clothes 
— had  got  him  safe  ;  he  didn't  care  a  chestnut-burr  for  all  the 
other's  singing,  but  took  to  the  little  vagaboiidess  with  all  his 
heart  and  soul. 

Now  something  else  happened.  The  old  man  in  gray  got  his 
mind  again  and  turned  out  to  be  Mignon's  father  (have  T  told 
you  that  was  her  name?).  He  was  a  rich  old  fellow,  with  a 
house  furnished  with  gilt  chairs,  and  everything  sumptuous — 
so,  of  course,  the  fellow  in  boots  stuck  to  her  more  than  ever. 

I  don't  know  what  became  of  the  woman  in  yellow,  but  as  for 
this  other  girl,  she  came  out  first  best  in  every  respect ;  espec 
ially  at  the  end,  when  ever  so  many  flowers  and  baskets. and 
things  were  just  poured  down  upon  her.  For  my  part,  I 
thought  the  yellow  girl  ought  to  have  had  full  half  of  these 
tilings,  for  I  liked  her  quite  as  well,  if  not  better  than  the  vaga- 
bondess. 

Well,  the  green  curtain  went  down  for  good,  and  the  whole 
congregation  got  up  to  go  out. 


114  The  Black  Crook. 

"  How  do  you  like  Nilsson?  "  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  as  she  was 
fastening  her  fur  mantle. 

"  Nilsson  !  "  says  I,  "  I  haven't  seen  her  yet." 

"  Why,  yes  you  have — she  just  came  out." 

"  What !— that  girl-boy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mignon." 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I.  "  Who  then  was  the  girl  in 
yellow?" 

"  Oh  !  she  is  Duval." 

"  Well,  I  like  her  at  any  rate,  poor  thing ;  it  was  a  shame 
to  treat  her  so." 

That  moment  I  felt  that  the  great  Grand  Duke  was  gone. 
Not  one  more  glance.  It  was  hard ! 


XXV. 

THE    BLACK   CROOK. 

jISTERS  : — Since  my  intimacy  with  Imperial  Royalty, 
Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  Dempster  has  been  as  proud 
as  a  peacock  of  our  relationship,  and  speaks  about  the 
Court  of  all  the  Russias  as  if  she  expected  to  have  an  ice-palace 
built  on  the  Neva  for  her,  every  winter,  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 
This  may  be  natural — I  dare  say  it  is ;  but  I'm  afraid  that  Russia 
— being  an  awful  despotism — wouldn't  stand  too  many  of  one's 
relations  crowding  into  the  Imperial  corn-crib,  that  being  a  free- 
born  institution  peculiar  to  high  moral  ideas  which  my  great 
Grand  Duke  did  not  stay  in  Boston  long  enough  to  imbibe. 

Still,  being  a  relation  and  born  under  the  star-spangled  ban 
ner,  why  shouldn't  she  have  her  own  little  hopes  ?  I  ask  my 
self  this  and  resolve  to  do  my  best  for  her.  Being  a  first  cousin 
she  has  her  rights. 

This  morning  E.  E.  sent  down  a  little  straw-colored  letter 


The  Black  Crook.  115 

with  a  picture  on  the  envelop  just  where  it  seals,  and  asked  me 
to  go  with  her  and  Dempster  to  see  "  The  Black  Crook,"  which 
she  wrote  was  a  spectacle  worth  looking  at.  They  had  got 
seats  at  Niblo's  to  see  it  after  ever  so  much  trouble,  and  were 
sure  that  I  would  be  delighted. 

Delighted !  What  about !  I  never  hankered  much  for 
eye-glass  or  spectacles.  I  wish  cousin  E.  E.  would  be  a 
little  more  particular  about  her  spelling — that  sometimes  makes 
goose-pimples  creep  all  over  me — but  a  spectacle,  singular, 
spelt  with  an  aa,"  gives  one  just  a  tantalizing  sense  of  growing 
old,  more  provoking  than  saying  the  thing  right  out.  I  can't 
see  any  more  sense  in  one  spectacle  than  in  half  a  pair  of  scis 
sors,  but  maybe  she  can.  At  any  rate  I  don't  mean  to  go 
gadding  down  to  Mr.  Niblo's  theatre  just  to  see  that. 

But  the  "  Black  Crook,"  I'm  beat  to  know  what  that  has  to 
do  with  spectacles  or  eye-glasses.  I  have  read  what  our  minis 
ter  calls  pastoral  "poetry,  and  almost  always  find  it  divided  off 
into  hill-side  lots,  where  some  stuck-up  young  .creature  in  the 
farming  line,  is  tending  sheep,  with  a  long  crook-necked  stick 
in  her  hand,  with  which  she 

Just  trains  the  little  bleating-  lambs, 

"With  fleece  as  white  as  snow," 
And  points  out  with  her  crooked  stick 

Just  where  they  ought  to  go. 

Excuse  poetry,  but,  like  a  pent-up  spring,  it  will  break  forth ; 
nor  must  you  suspect  me  of  plagiarism.  Remark — the  second 
line  has  honest  quotation-marks,  which  is  doing  full  justice  to 
Mary  who  owned  the  particular  lamb  which  has  become  im 
mortal  from  its  whiteness  and  exceptional  training. 

But  all  this  does  not  bring  us  any  nearer  to  what  this  Black 
Crook  means.  I  have  been  studying  this  matter  over.  Of 
course  a  crook  is  a  crook.  Put  the  neck  of  a  winter  squash 
on  the  end  of  a  bean  pole,  and  you  have  it. 

But  the  Black  Crook.  Black?  Ah,  why  didn't  I  think  of 
that  before  ?  From  the  name,  I  suppose  it  is  some  reconstruc- 


n6  The  Black  Crook. 

tion  instrument  for  hooking-up  taxes  and  bonds,  left  behind 
here  in  New  York  by  some  run-away  Southern  governor. 

Well,  now,  I  should  like  to  see  that — anything  left  behind 
by  one  of  those  fellows  must  be  a  curiosity. 

Yes,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  accept  Cousin  E.  E.  D.'s  invita 
tion.  The  theatre  would  be  something  new  anyhow,  and  it  is 
the  duty  of  my  mission  to  see  all  things  and  hold  fast  to  that 
which  is  good. 

Well,  just  before  dark,  I  got  out  that  pink  silk  dress  and 
the  two  long  braids,  and  shut  myself  in  with  the  looking-glass 
over  my  bureau,  which  is  always  reflecting,  but  says  nothing, 
or  one  might  be  afraid  to  trust  it  on  some  occasions. 

I  was  almost  ready,  when  Cousin  Emily  E.  come  in  so  sud 
denly  that  I  hopped  up  from  my  chair,  and  gave  a  scary  scream. 
The  face  in  the  glass  turned  all  sorts  of  colors,  and  seemed  to 
scream  too,  and  looked  half-frightened  to  death.  Cousin  E.  E. 
laughed,  and  shut  the  door.  Holding  up  both  hands,  says  she: 

"  What,  in  that  dress  !  My  dear  cousin,  it  is  to  a  theatre 
we  are  going." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  your  letter  told  me  that,"  says  I,  a-spread- 
ing  out  the  skirt  of  my  dress  along  the  floor. 

"  But  we  do  not  dress  like  that  for  a  theatre,"  says  she,  a- 
looking  down  at  her  black  silk  dress,  which  was  all  fluttered 
over  with  narrow  ruffles.  "  No  trains,  dear  Cousin  Frost,  no 
lace — a  plain  walking-dress  and  bonnet — nothing  more  ?  " 

I  looked  at  the  shiny  waves  of  pink  silk  lying  around  my 
feet,  and  at  that  face  in  the  glass,  and  was  just  ready  to  burst 
out  a-crying.  It  was  too  bad. 

"  You  thought  this  just  the  thing  when  we  went  to  hear 
that  Miss  Nilsson  sing,"  says  I,  looking  mournfully  at  that 
face  in  the  glass,  which  was  almost  crying. 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  was  the  opera — this  only  a  theatre.  You 
see  the  difference,"  says  she. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  you  will,"  says  she.  "  It's  the  fashion.  You,  who 
write  about  fashionable  life  so  beautifully,  ought  to  know  that." 


The  Black  Crook,  117 

t(  Just  as  if  I  didn't,"  says  I ;  and  the  fire  flashed  into  my 
eyes  while  I  took  off  my  pink  dress ;  and  put  on*  my  alpaca, 
which  has  got  a  new  overskirt  trimmed  with  flutings. 

"  There,"  says  I,  flinging  the  pink  silk  clown  on  the  bed, 
"  will  that  suit  ?  " 

"  Beautifully,"  says  she.  "  Now  get  your  shawl  and  bon 
net." 

Which  I  did. 

The  carriage  held  four  of  us  this  time,  for  Cousin  E.  E.  had 
brought  that  little  girl  of  hers,  who  sat  huddled  up  in  the  back 
seat.  When  her  mother  told  her  to  change  places,  "  The 
idea,"  says  she,  giving  her  head  a  fling,  and  eying  me  like  an 
angry  poodle-dog ;  then  she  flounced  down  in  the  front  seat,  so 
huffish  and  sulky,  that  her  father  said,  in  a  rnilk-and-waterish 
way: 

"  My  darling,  don't  be  naughty." 

And  his  wife  told  him  not  to  interfere  between  her  and  her 
child.  She  knew  how  to  bring  up  a  young  lady,  and  he  mustn't 
attempt  to  break  her  spirit ;  at  which  the  heap  of  sulks  in  the 
corner  muttered  that  it  wasn't  in  him  to  do  it. 

There  isn't  so  very  much  difference  between  the  Opera 
House  and  Mr.  Niblo's  theatre  ;  only,  one  is  piled  up  sky- 
high  with  cushioned  galleries ;  and  the  theatre  is  considerably 
out-of-doors,  especially  in  the  lower  story.  We  sat  right  in 
front,  for  Cousin  E.  E.  said  that  the  "  Crook  "  could  be  seen 
best  from  there.  I  said  nothing,  but  waited.  Some  people 
love  to  ask  questions,  but  I  would  rather  find  out  things  for 
myself — it's  a  saving  to  one's  feelings  in  the  long  run. 

Well,  the  theatre  was  jammed  full  of  people,  mostly  with 
shawls,  and  cloaks,  and  bonnets  on.  Cousin  E.  E.  was  right. 
What  is  genteel  in  one  place  is  vulgar  in  another — that  is 
fashion. 

That  child  insisted  on  trying  all  the  seats,  to  see  which  she 
liked  best ;  but  we  got  settled  at  last,  and  just  then  up  went 
the  picture-curtain  with  a  rush.  I  screamed  right  out,  for  the 
very  first  sight  took  away  my  breath.  Oh !  sisters,  I  wish  you 


ii8  The  Black  Crook. 

could  have  seen  it.  Such  trees,  such  loads  of  flowers,  such 
clusters  and  streams  of  light !  Oh  my  !  if  Eve  ever  had  a 
paradise  like  that,  she  was  just  the  greatest  goose  that  ever 
lived  to  be  turned  out  of  it  for  the  sake  of  one  little  knotty 
apple.  I've  no  patience  with  her'! 

While  I  was  looking  at  this  beautiful  world,  another  scream 
burst  from  my  lips,  for,  all  in  a  moment,  it  was  alive  with 
women,  so  lovely,  so  graceful,  so  full  of  life,  that  they  almost 
took  away  one's  breath.  At  first,  they  all  came  whirling  in, 
as  figures  do  in  a  dream  ;  but,  after  a  minute,  I  just  felt  like 
sinking  through  the  floor.  Why,  sisters,  they  might  just  as 
well  have  been  dressed  in  flowers !  In  short,  dress  a  full- 
grown  girl  in  a  double  poppy,  with  fringed  edges,  and  you 
have  an  idea  of  what  I  couldn't  look  at.  I  felt  my  cheeks 
glow  with  fire  ;  my  fingers  tingled  with  shame.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  every  man  in  the  house  was  looking  straight  into  my 
eyes,  to  see  how  I  borfe  it.  I  lifted  my  eyes,  and  cast  one 
frightened  look  around  me,  ready  to  jump  up  and  run  from  the 
first  face  turned  to  mine.  Then  I  just  covered  my  face  with 
my  open  fan. 

There  wasn't  a  face  turned  my  way.  Every  soul — men, 
women,  and  children — were  looking  at  those  girls,  who  whirled, 
and  moved,  and  tangled  themselves  up  in  some  sort  of  a 
wild,  wicked  dance,  that  must  have  been  the  work  of  Old 
Nick  himself,  for  nothing  less  could  have  made  me  look  on. 
My  whole  heart  rose  right  up  against  those  beautiful  creatures, 
but  somehow  they  seemed  to  hold  me  to  my  seat.  Really,  sis 
ters,  you  have  no  idea  how  very  enticing  a  woman  can  be  who 
puffs  a  lot  of  gauze  around  her  waist,  throws  a  wreath  of 
flowers  over  her  shoulders,  and  dances  like  a  whirlwind. 

At  first,  I  just  covered  my  face  with  my  fan,  for  I  could  not 
bring  myself  up  to  a  straightforward  look.  Then,  somehow, 
my  fingers  would  get  apart,  and  I  found  myself  peeping 
through  the  slats  just  as  shamed  as  could  be,  but  yet  I  could 
not  help  peeping. 

Mercy  on  me,  what  a  whirl   and  rush  of  light !     What  a 


The  Black  Crook.  119 

flashing  of  gold ;  what  a  crowd  of  women  dressed  in  noth 
ing,  and  a  little  gauze  thrown  in — it  made  my  head  whirl  like 
a  top. 

I  can't  tell  you  just  when  my  hand  dropped  into  my  lap,  but 
before  I  knew  it  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  that  great  whirling 
picture,  and  my  sense  of  shame  was  lost  in  a  storm  of  music. 
All  these  glittering  women  were  standing  in  rows,  regular  as 
the  pickets  on  a  door-yard  fence,  while  one  girl,  with  a  wreath 
of  green  leaves  and  red  berries  on  her  head,  was  whirling 
on  one  toe  round  and  round,  till  she  seemed  to  be  a  dozen  girls 
whizzing  round  in  a  cloud  of  white  muslin. 

By  and  by  all  the  crowd  of  girls  joined  in  and  began  dodging 
about  among  the  trees  and  flowers,  like — well  I  must  say  it, 
— like  runaway  angels  determined  to  have  a  good  time  of  it. 
Then  a  man,  covered  to  his  knees  with  silver  scales  like  a  fish, 
came  in,  and  he  had  a  dance  with  the  girl  in  leaves  and  red 
berries.  Such  a  dance — they  backed,  they  advanced,  they 
snapped  their  fingers  at  each  other,  they  flung  up  their  heels, 
they  locked  arms  backwards,  then  broke  apart,  and  began  the 
most  lively  double-shuffle  at  each  other  that  ever  I  dreamed  of. 
It  fairly  took  away  my  breath  to  see  them. 

"  That  is  a  splendid  can-can,"  says  that  child,  taking  the 
little  spy-glass  from  her  mother's  lap,  and  levelling  it  at  the 
dancers.  "  Don't  you  think  so,  Miss  Phcemie?  " 

1  gave  her  a  look ;  it  was  all  I  could  spare  just  then,  for 
some  new  people  had  come  into  the  picture.  A  great  tall  fel 
low,  with  body  supporters  like  bean  poles,  had  come  in  with  a 
lovely  creature,  who  was  considered  a  ojieen  among  the  girls. 
Just  as  I  was  looking,  he  seemed  to  stretch  himself  out  like  a 
piece  of  india-rubber,  and  lifting  one  foot,  swung  it  over  her 
head  without  touching  a  curl. 

So  this  was  the  "  Black  Crook,"  not  that  I  saw  anything  like 
a  crook,  but  the  burning  pictures  more  than  made  up  for  that, 
and  the  dancing  was,  well — stupendous. 

Every  once  in  a  while  a  curtain  would  fall  and  shut  out  the 
pictures.  Every  time  it  was  drawn  up  something  more  splendid 


I2O  Living  Apart. 

than  anything  that  had  gone  before  came  out.  One  picture 
was  all  in  a  veil  of  fog,  through  which  the  men  and  women 
roved  like  beautiful  ghosts.  In  another,  some  of  the  cumiing- 
est  little  dogs  you  ever  saw  danced,  and  begged,  and  acted  a 
play  for  themselves,  just  like  human  creatures.  At  last  came 
a  great  fiery  picture,  all  gold  and  glare,  and  flowers  planted  in 
fire,  with  trees  that  seemed  to  be  dropping  golden  fruit,  in 
which  all  the  crowd  of  beautiful  girls  were  lying  on  banks  and 
under  trees,  and  perched  like  splendid  birds  up  in  the  air. 
Then  the  curtain  came  down  with  a  thud,  smothering  up  the 
fire,  and  hiding  everything.  The  storm  of  music  broke  off  with 
a  crash,  and  the  crowd  began  to  shout  and  yell,  and  stamp  their 
feet  till  the  whole  building  shook. 

Sisters,  this  is  all  I  can  tell  you  about  the  "  Black  Crook." 
It  is  splendid,  and  wonderfully  enticing ;  but  you  might  as 
well  expect  me  to  give  you  a  clear  idea  of  a  burning  city.  It 
is  just  one  picture  of  gorgeous  confusion  and  confused  gorgeous- 
ness. 


XXYI. 

LIVING   APART. 

]EAR  SISTERS :— There  has  been  great  tumult 
and  trouble  in  New  York  since  I  wrote  my  last 
report.  Something  that  relates  to  the  honor  of 
Vermont  has  thrilled  the  public  mind  to  a  fearful  extent.  A 
smart,  genial,  warm-hearted,  dashing  person,  by  the  name  of 
Fisk — Mr.  James  Fisk — born  and  brought  up  in  our  State,  has 
been  shot  in  the  largest  tavern  in  the  city,  where  he  died,  I 
greatly  fear,  without  a  realizing  sense  that  he  was  so  soon  to  be 
called  before  his  Maker. 

Many  of  you,  my  sisters,  can  remember  this  man — a  great, 
handsome,  good-natured-looking   fellow,  with    sunshiny  eyes, 


Living  Apart.  12 1 

and  a  mustache  that  curled  up  like  a  pair  of  horns  on  each  side 
of  a  mouth  that  always  seemed  ready  to  laugh  at  something. 
There  wasn't  a  man  that  ever  came  to  Sprucehill  that  every 
body  was  so  sure  to  remember.  His  great  wagon,  painted  off 
like  a  circus,  with  four  horses  a-drawing  it  through  the  village, 
with  a  splash- dash  noise  of  whips  and  wheels  and  hoofs,  was 
enough  to  make  the  money  spring  right  out  of  one's  pocket. 
Mercy  on  me !  Didn't  he  make  the  dry-goods  ily  !  Every 
body  bought  something  of  him,  and  I  must  say  -that  everybody 
liked  him.  In.  the  peddling  line  he  was  a  sort  of  P.  T.  Barmim, 
only  he  didn't  know  how  to  stick  to  his  trade  as  Barnum  has. 
He  drove  his  four  horses ;  he  made  money  like  everything ; 
he  outgrew  Brattleborough,  which  was  his  native  place,  and 
soon  got  above  peddling,  his  native  business. 

The  next  step  towards  his  exaltation  and  ruin  was  that  he 
left  Vermont,  a  man  who  will  do  that  of  his  own  accord  is  sure 
to  run  wild.  Well,  he  left  his  native  State,  and  set  up  at  the 
Hub  of  the  Universe,  which  every  one  knows  is  Boston,  where 
he  began  his  education  as  a  financier  and  a  millionaire. 

Boston  is  a  great  city.  I  should  like  to  hear  any  one  dare 
to  deny  that ;  but,  then,  people  here  say  that,  in  the  way  of 
financing,  the  Hub  kiiowrs  how  to  save,  and  skimp,  and  deposit, 
and  get  twice  her  share  of  offices  out  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States ;  but,  outside  of  that,  she  is  nowhere,  compared 
to  New  York.  She  has  no  idea  of  turning  a  sharp  stock  cor 
ner,  couldn't  get  up  a  Black  Friday  to  save  her  life ;  in  fact,  is 
only  good  at  an  old-fashioned  tea-party.  This  is  what  Cousin 
Dempster  says  about  Boston,  and  he  ought  to  know,  being  a 
first-class  broker  in  Wall  Street,  and  New  England  born. 

Well,  of  course,  it  wasn't  long  before  Mr.  Fisk  outgrew  the 
Hub,  which  hadn't  room  for  all  the  spokes  which  he  wanted  to 
carry  to  his  wheel,  and  off  he  conies  to  New  York,  gets  into 
the  Erie  Railroad,  and,  goodness  knows  how  he  did  it !  but 
before  people  knew  who  he  was,  he  went  smashing  and  crashing 
up  that  road',  prowled  through  Wall  Street  like  a  roaring 


122  Living  Apart. 

lion,  or  bear,  or  some  other  such  animals  as  gore  and  claw 
each  other  in  that  neighborhood. 

Well,  after  he  had  sent  a  good  many  brokers  sky-high  with 
his  horns,  and  knocked  others  down  with  his  paws,  for  he 
tackled  in  with  both,  he  goes  kiting  off  to  sea  by  way  of  the 
Sound. 

While  people  were  wondering  what  he  would  do  next,  he 
had  gone  to  work  and  fitted  up  great  palatial  steamboats,  and 
invited  the  President  to  travel  in  them,  which  the  President 
did,  not  dreaming  that  he  was  expected  to  build  up  a  cattle- 
pen  or  a  bear-garden  in  exchange  for  a  little  hospitality. 

Well,  it's  hard  satisfying  a  Yermonter  when  he  once  breaks 
loose  from  his  native  mountains.  After  gobbling  up  railroads 
and  putting  steamboats  afloat,  Mr.  Fisk  just  swung  back  into 
Wall  Street  one  day,  and  upset  things  generally  in  less  time 
than  any  man  ever  did  before.  No  shootist  ever  brought 
clown  more  birds  at  a  shot,  than  he  left  men  in  that  street 
rich  in  the  morning,  and  ruined  at  night.  Cousin  Dempster 
says  it  was  awful. 

Mr.  Fisk  didn't  care,  but  wheeled  out  of  the  street  just  as 
he  used  to  drive  his  pedler's  wagon,  with  hoofs  a-rattling  arid 
whips  a-cracking,  riding  over  ruined  men  everywhere  in  his 
track. 

Besides  all  this,  Mr.  Fisk  had  a  great,  grand,  overpowering 
Opera  House,  and  carried  on  a  theatre,  in  which  women 
danced,  like  Black-crookers,  and  sang  like — well,  I  can't  tell 
what  they  did  sing  like,  not  having  a  comparison  handy — but 
it  was  awfully  interesting,  Cousin  Dempster  said ;  and  I  be 
lieve  him,  for  E.  E.  says  he  used  to  go  to  that  Opera  House 
alone  so  often,  that  she  began  to  be  afraid  that  he  was  getting 
into  some  business  with  Mr.  Fisk  that  must  be  transacted  in 
the  evening — a  thing  she  didn't  like,  the  man  being  considered 
so  overpoweringly  fascinating. 

I  don't  know  whether  Mr.  Fisk  belonged  to  the  Woman's 
Eighters  or  not,  but  there  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  him, 
such  as  would  have  compelled  any  religious  society  in  Vermont 


Living  Apart.  123 

to  get  up  an  investigation  and  some  extra  prayer-meetings, 
which  he  wouldn't  have  liked,  being  mostly  given  contrary- 
wise.  But  the  one  thing  he  hadn't  done  was  to  join  a 
churchr  and,  you  see,  nobody  in  particular  had  a  right  to  call 
him  to  account  but  his  wife,  and  s^lie  didn't. 

Some  people  were  mean  enough  to  hint  that  his  system  of 
married  life  wasn't  just  the  thing  for  a  couple  brought  up  in 
the  purifying  atmosphere  of  a  Vermont  village,  and  went  so 
far  as  to  turn  up  their  noses  because  he  lived  about  the  Opera 
House  and  she  in  Boston,  close  to  the  very  heart  of  the  Hub, 
as  if  any  woman  could  get  further  away  from  original  sin  than 
that. 

But  these  slanderers  knew  as  well  as  could  be,  that  Mr. 
Fisk  had  a  free  pass  on  the  telegraph  and  steam  communica 
tion  with  his  wife  every  day.  Besides,  didn't  the  newspapers 
give  his  most  private  actions  to  an  admiring  public,  every  few 
hours,  and  couldn't  she  read  how  blameless  and  self-sacrificing 
his  life  was. 

Besides  being  a  great  financier  and  seafaring  man,  our  Ver 
mont  pedler  took  up  social  life  as  a  specialty,  and  distin 
guished  himself  among  the  high  fashionables.  The  moral  ideas 
that  he  had  brought  from  Down  East,  were  just  as  dashing  as 
his  Wall-street  corners.  He  still  kept  the  telegraph  wires  quiv 
ering  with  conjugal  messages,  and  when  he  took  domestic  ease 
and  the  fresh  salt  air  on  the  Jersey  sea-coast,  at  Long  Branch, 
in  a  high-swung  carriage,  with  four  seats,  and  stable  help  in 
trainer's  clothes,  wasn't  his  wife  at  another  watering-place, 
called  Newport,  with  a  high-swinging  carriage  of  her  own,  all 
cushioned  off  with  silk,  and  with  her  gold-mounted  harness  rat 
tling  over  six  horses,  just  as  black  and  shiny  as  his? 

If  that  isn't  conjugal  sympathy,  such  as  goes  down  among 
the  upper  crust  of  New  York,  1  don't  know  what  is. 

Just  the  same  number  of  horses,  j  ust  the  same  swing  in  her 
carriage,  just  the  same  people — no,  I  am  a  little  out  there. 
She  had  relations  in  the  seats,  and  he  hadn't  always. 

But  then,  what  is  all  that  compared  to  a  great  many  fash- 


124  More  About  Fisk. 

ionable,  married  folks  in  New  York^— so  extravagantly  fond 
of  each  other,  that  they  make  the  Atlantic  Ocean  for  a  con 
necting  link,  year  after  year,  and  correspond  tenderly  in  bills 
of  exchange. 

Our  poor,  dead  pedler  from  Vermont  wasn't  the  only  man 
in  New  York  who  lived  and  loved  by  steam  and  telegraph. 


XXVII. 

MORE   ABOUT    FISK. 

]HEN  the  New  England  mind,  which  is  a  little  apt  to 
be  troubled  about  the  marriage  relations  of  its  emi 
grants,  asks  you  about  my  report,  you  can  say  that 
this  New  England  couple  were  only  following  the  upper-crust 
fashion  with  married  people  in  our  great  cities,  where  men  and 
their  wives  find  the  Atlantic  Ocean  more  convenient  than  a 
divorce  court.  Being  imbued  with  morality  from  the  Hub, 
they  only  set  an  example  of  easy  distances. 

It  takes  a  good,  solid  foundation  of  religion  for  even  a  born 
Vermonter  to  stand  against  a  sudden  rush  of  money.  This 
man  seemed  to  start  fair.  He  began  his  life  with  us.  Next 
he  went  to  Boston,  the  very  spring  and  fountain  of  high  moral 
ideas,  where  every  law  has  a  higher  law  to  nullify  it.  He  left 
his  better  half  in  the  salubrious  atmosphere,  where  she  per 
formed  her  domestic  duties  alone,  while  he  was  toiling  down 
Erie  railroad  stock,  and  promulgating  sweet  sounds  from  the 
Grand  Opera  House.  Bound  together  in  conjugal  sympathy,  by 
ever- vibrating  telegraph  wires,  what  could  have  been  more  satis 
factory  and  highly  fashionable  than  these  hymeneal  relations  ? 

This  is  what  Cousin  Dempster  has  been  saying  to  me  with  a 
.queer  smile  on  his  lips,  and  something  that  seems  almost  sar 
castic  in  his  voice. 


More  About  Fisk.  125 

Says  he,  "  If  this  way  of  life  is  persisted  in,  and  is  held  re 
spectable  in  social  circles,  who  has  a  right  to  find  fault  when 
sin  and  sorrow  spring  out  of  it  ?  Who  among  the  thousands 
who  abandon  honorable  homes  for  personal  pleasures  shall  dare 
to  condemn  him  ? 

"  Look  over  the  list  of  outgoing  steamers  any  month  in  the 
year,  and  see  how  large  a  proportion  of  husbands  and  wives 
travel  together.  Society,  so  slanderous  in  other  things,  is 
wickedly  tolerant  here,  and  makes  a  thousand  excuses  for  the 
separation  of  married  people. 

"  Children  must  be  educated.  Just  as  if  a  free-born  Ameri 
can  boy  or  girl  can't  learn  all  he  or  she  is  capable  of  knowing 
in  his  own  native  land !  Just  as  if  any  woman,  who  loves  her 
husband  and  means  to  be  a  good  mother,  would  listen  for  a 
moment  to  the  idea  of  taking  her  family  into  foreign  parts 
while  her  husband  is  tied  down  to  business  at-home. 

"  Married  people,  who  love  each  other,  live  together — temp 
tations  are  serpent-like,  but  they  seldom  creep  upon  a  hearth 
stone  kept  warm  by  domestic  affection. 

"  Parents  who  are  willing  to  live  apart  for  the  sake  of  their 
children,  and  call  it  a  sacrifice  to  duty,  may  not  know  that 
they  are  hypocrites,  but  other  people  know  it.  Scandal  thrives 
upon  such  things,  and  where  scandal  thrives  domestic  happi 
ness  perishes. 

"  The  marriage  relations  are  the  soul  of  our  social  life  ;  relax 
them,  take  away  one  grain  of  their  holiness,  and  you  blast  the 
blossom  from  which  wholesome  fruit  can  spring.  When  love 
and  truth  dies  out  of  marriage,  its  vitality  is  gone.  God  for 
give  the  men  and  the  women  who  dare  to  hold  the  most  beau 
tiful  tie  that  links  soul  to  soul,  as  a  wisp  of  flax,  to  be  rent  or 
burned  at  the  will  of  our  most  evil  passions. 

"  Can  any  human  being  make  laws  for  himself  and  trample 
under  foot  those  which  have  been  for  ages  laid  down  by  society, 
.without  meeting,  sooner  or  later,  with  rebuke,  and  perhaps, 
ruin  ?  Evil  passions  arouse  evil  passions.  The  profligacy  and 
power  of  gold  is  sometimes  most  dangerous  in  a  generous 


126  More  About  Fisk. 

nature.  In  the  hot  sunshine  of  overwhelming  good  fortune, 
fiery  passions  are  sure  to  thrive  and  tend  to  a  poisonous  growth. 
War  is  the  mother  of  licentiousness.  How  much  that  men 
should  avoid,  and  women  shudder  at,  has  sprung  out  of  the 
civil  war,  which  ebbs  and  flows  even  yet  on  the  borders  of  our 
land !  In  that  war  men  learned  to  be  daring  in  other  things 
than  brave  deeds,  and  women  learned  to  be  shameless,  and 
glory  in  free  speech,  free  actions,  and  free  laws  of  their  own 
devising. 

"  These  thoughts  are  forced  from  me  by  the  violent  death  of 
a  man  who  had  the  brain  and  the  heart  to  *be  an  honor  to  our 
State,  whose  capacity  and  cordial  good-nature  might  have 
gained  him  the  love  of  better  men  than  he  ever  knew  in  his 
brief  and  fiery  career,  and  who  had  the  brain  to  accomplish 
great  things  in  the  future." 

I  listened  with  breathless  attention  to  what  Cousin  Dempster 
said.  He  spoke  with  feeling.  I  didn't  think  there  was  so 
much  in  the  man.  He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  began  to  walk 
the  room. 

"I  cannot  dwell  upon  this  man's  wildly  brilliant  career," 
says  he,  "  without  a  feeling  of  melancholy.  Here  existed  the 
capacities  of  a  great  man,  perfect  health,  wonderful  energy, 
struggling  aspirations  toward  the  right — which  he  might  here 
after  have  reached — generous,  impulses  running  wild,  strong 
affections,  and  overweaning  ambition,  all  turbulent  ostentations 
almost  barbaric,  and  all  hurled  into  nothingness  by  the  blow 
of  one  bitter  enemy. 

"  As  he  had  lived,  so  they  carried  him  to  his  grave,  arrayed 
gorgeously  in  his  coffin,  lying  in  high  state,  not  by  the  sacred 
altar  of  a  church,  but  in  the  Grand  Opera  House,  which  had 
so  long  been  the  centre  of  his  magnificence.  Buried  in  flowers 
snow-white,  as  if  gathered  for  the  tomb  of  a  vestal,  glitter 
ing  with  gold,  with  clouds  of  perfume  floating  over  him — in 
all  the  pomp  of  a  monarch  he  was  taken  from  New  York,  and 
carried  for  a  last  resting-place  to  Vermont. 

<£  I  wish  it  had  been  otherwise.     Living  as  he  did,  dying  as 


More  About  Fisk.  127 

ho  did,  with  the  ruin  of  so  many  lives  involved  in  his  fate,  that 
last  journey  should  have  been  taken  in  simplicity  and  quietness. 
The  lesson  his  death  conveys  is  too  solemn  for, display,  too 
mournful  for  anything  but  stillness.  The  elements  of  a  great 
man  left  Vermont  only  a  few  years  ago ;  New  York  has  sent 
back  the  ruins.  Let  them  rest  in  peace." 

Sisters,  I  did  not  think  it  possible  that  Cousin  Dempster 
could  get  so  fearfully  earnest ;  his  conversation  has  filled  me 
with  thoughts  too  solemn  for  careless  utterance.  In  this  man's 
death  1  hear  a  cry  for  merciful  consideration — a  solemn  warn 
ing — a  protest  against  the  headlong  speed  with  which  this 
generation  is  trampling  respectability  under  foot.  This  man's 
death  is  a  subject  of  gossip  now,  when  it  should  be  a  subject  of 
inournfnl  regret. 

I  do  not  speak  here  of  the  man  who  killed  him,  or  the  cause 
of  his  death.  One  is  a  subject  that  no  lady  would  care  to  dis 
cuss.  The  other  is  in  the  hands  of  the  law,  which  should  be  a 
sanctuary  for  the  accused.  The  evidence  has  been  heard 
thoroughly,  and  a  jury  has  decided  on  it,  merciful  or  not,  its 
verdict  is  final. 

But  for  Cousin  Dempster,  I  should  not  have  made  this  death 
the  subject  of  a  report,  but  some  things  that  he  has  said  startled 
me.  Is  it  true  that  the  alienation  and  separation  of  married 
people  has  become  so  easy  and  so  fashionable  ?  Can  a  husband 
and  wife  live  apart  months,  years,  and  still  keep  up  a  pretence 
or  the  reality  of  affection,  and  be  honored  as  respectable  ?  I, 
for  one,  have  no  patience  with  such  things.  To  me,  marriage 
is  a  beautiful  institution. 

Do  not  smile,  sisters ;  I  am  not  thinking  of  the  great  Grand 
Duke  now.  In  fact  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself  at  all.  Cousin 
Dempster's  earnestness  has  impressed  me  with  apprehension 
and  melancholy  ;  he  places  this  subject  before  me  in  a  new  light. 

The  man  who  is  dead  was  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  life.  The 
poor  wept  for  him  ;  he  was  good  to  them,  and  they  believed  that 
he  had  a  kind  heart.  Sometimes  that  heart  went  back  to  the 
prayers  of  his  mother.  Had  time  been  given  him,  something 


128  She  Would  Go. 

tender  and  good  might  have  found  a  noble  growth  in  his  nature. 
We  do  not  yet  know,  and  never  shall  know,  what  he  might  have 
been. 


XXVIII. 

SHE    WOULD    GO. 

fEAB,  SISTERS :— I  have  had  a  glorious  and  a  re 
freshing  season.  I  have  felt,  in  the  depths  of  my 
soul,  that  the  eyes,  of  all  Vermont  were  on  me  in  a 
reflective  way.  As  the  moon  is  sometimes  permitted  to  shine 
before  the  sun  goes  down,  I  have  added  the  light  of  my  little 
feminine  luminary  to  the  flood  of  public  homage  that  sur 
rounds  the  greatest  and  best  man  that  our  State  ever  gave  to 
the  world. 

Saturday  night,  February  third,  was  Horace  Greeley's  birth 
day.  A  gentleman  up-town,  who  thinks  the  world  of  that 
smartest\of  good  men,  just  made  a  house-warming  on  the  occa 
sion,  and  invited  so  many  artists  and  poets,  and  editors  and 
statesmen,  and  people  that  Providence  had  labelled  as  some 
thing  particular,  that  it  is  a  wonder  the  roof  wasn't  blown  off 
with  the  yeasting  of  so  much  genius. 

Of  course  the  beauty  and  talent  of  old  Vermont,  wherever 
it  could  be  found,  was  hunted  up,  and  invited  with  unusual 
enthusiasm.  Where  beauty  and  talent  could  be  found  united 
in  one  person — modesty  forbids  me  to  point  out  an  instance — • 
of  course  an  especial  compliment  was  paid.  My  invitation  had 
a  picture  of  the  man,  whose  birthday  we  went  to  celebrate,  in 
the  middle  of  the  writing — a  real  good  likeness,  that  I  mean 
to  put  in  a  locket  and  wear  round  my  neck  in  honor  of  this 
self-made  man  and  of  my  own  native  State,  which  may  have 
double  cause  to  glorify  herself  when  the  sixty-first  birthday  of 
another  person  just  standing  in  front  of  the  Temple  of  Fame, 


She  Wotild  Go.  129 

with  her  foot  on  the  threshold,  shall  come  round.  I  say  noth 
ing,  but  in  the  female  line  Vermont  has  laid  up  oceans  of 
future  glory  for  herself. 

"Well,  the  day  came.  Once  more  I  drew  forth  my  pink  silk 
dress,  and  ironed  out  the  flounces ;  one  of  them  got  a  little 
scorched,  but  I  looped  up  the  spot  with  a  bow  and  a  bunch  of 
roses,  and  found  the  scorch  an  artistic  improvement.  I  twisted 
my  hair  in  corkscrews  over  night,  and  slept  with  my  eyes  wide 
open,  contented  as  a  kitten,  though  the  pull  was  tremendous. 
I  frizzed  up  the  other  woman's  hair,  for  which  I  had  paid  ten 
dollars  in  the  Sixth  Avenue,  and  made  r.eady  for  the  occasion 
-over  night  in  a  general  way. 

Of  course  Coiisin  Dempster  and  his  wife  were  invited,  being 
my  cousins,  and  so  saturated  with  the  family  genius,  that 
people  are  constantly  expecting  it  to  break  out,  which  it  hasn't 
yet,  except  in  a  general  way.  But  Cousin  D.  made  lots  of 
money  in  the  war,  and  money  is  thought  almost  as  much  of  as 
talent  by  some  people.  Still,  between  ourselves,  I  don't  think 
they  would  have  been  invited  if  they  hadn't  come  from  Spruce- 
hill  ;  which  is  taking  a  literary  position  next  to  the  Hub  since 
our  Society  has  begun  to  publish  my  humble  reports. 

Well,  just  at  nine  o'clock,  if  you  had  been  in  front  of  my 
boarding-house  you  might  have  seen  a  splendid  carriage  stand 
ing  at  the  door,  and  that  coachman,  in  his  fur  collar  and  cuffs, 
sitting  high  up  on  the  driver's  seat,  and  scrouching  his  head 
down  while  a  storm  of  sleet  and  snow  beat  over  him. 

If  you  had  looked  toward  the  house,  three  or  four  eager 
and  curious  faces  might  have  been  seen  flat  against  every  front 
window  as  a  certain  dignified  and  queenly  person  came  slowly 
down  the  steps,  with  a  white  opera-cloak  folded  over  her  mag 
nificent  person,  and  a  pink  silk  long  train  bunched  up  under 
it,  lining-side  out. 

The  moment  that  carriage-door  shut  with  an  aristocratic 
bang  you  might  have  seen  those  faces  turn  from  the  window 
and  look  at  each  other — then  noses  turned  up  at  sympathiz 
ing  noses,  giving  out  audible  sniffs  of  that  envy  which  the 
6* 


130  She  Would  Go. 

wonderful  endowments  of  some  persons  are  apt  to  engender  in 
the  inferior  female  mind. 

But  if  you  had  looked  into  that  carriage  you  would  havo 
seen  it  packed  comfortably  as  a  robin's  nest  in.  blossom 
time.  There  was  my  pink  dress  floating  round  me  in  rosy 
billows ;  there  was  Cousin  E.  E.'s  corn-colored  moire  antique 
swelling  like  a  balloon  on  her  side ;  and  there  was  Cousin 
Dempster  rising  like  a  black  exclamation  point  up  from  one 
corner,  and  that  child  drumming  her  blue  kid-boots  against 
the  seat  in  another  corner,  and  snarling  because  a  gust  of 
sleet  came  in  with  me  before  the  fellow  outside  could  shut  the 
door. 

When  I  saw  her,  my  blood  riled  in  a  minute. 

"  Why,  Cousin  Dempster,"  says  I,  l(  children  were  not  in 
vited." 

"  Children,  indeed  !  "  says  the  child,  giving  her  head  a  fling  : 
"  I  suppose  Cousin  Frost  thinks  that  nothing  but  old  maids  can 
be  young  ladies — the  idea !  " 

"  Daughter !  "  almost  shrieked  Cousin  Emily  E.,  a-catching 
her  breath,  and  giving  a  frightened  look  over  my  way. 

"  My  child,  how  can  you  be  so  rude  ?  "  says  Cousin  Demp 
ster,  stamping  down  among  the  fur  robes,  and  mashing  my 
foot  under  the  sole  of  his  boot. 

I  said  nothing,  but  sat  in  dignified  silence,  wishing  those 
two  persons  to  feel  that  it  was  impossible  the  creature  could 
mean  me,  but  I  trembled  all  over  with  righteous  indignation, 
and  wondered  why  that  Bible  benefactor,  King  Herod,  had 
limited  himself  to  boys,  when  he  had  such  a  glorious  chance  to 
sweep  creatures  like  that  out  of  existence  in  the  female  line. 
Oh !  if  I  had  been  a  Bible  potentate  ! 

<£  She  was  so  anxious  to  go,  being  born  in  Vermont,"  says 
Cousin  Emily  Elizabeth  ;  "  it  seems  as  if  she  knew  Mr.  Gree- 
ley." 

"  Reads  the  Tribune  every  day,"  chimes  in  Cousin  Demp 
ster,  giving  me  a  pleading  look. 

"  I'll  thank  you  to  take  the  heel  of  your  boot  off  my  foot, 


She  Would  Go.  131 

if  you  have  held  it  there  long  enough,"  says  I,  with  the  firmness" 
of  a  martyr  and  the  dignity  of  an  empress. 

This  wilted  the  whole  party  into  silence,  and  we  drove  on, 
with  the  hail  pelting  against  the  windows,  and  lowering  clouds 
inside. 

All  at  once  we  got  into  a  long  line  of  carriages,  and  moved 
on  as  if  we  were  going  to  a  funeral  instead  of  a  birthday. 
Then  the  carriage  stopped,  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  we 
stepped  under  a  long  tent  that  stretched  from  the  front  door 
down  a  flight  of  stone  steps  and  across  the  sidewalk.  A  car 
pet  ran  down  the  steps  to  the  carriage,  and  we  walked  up  that 
into  the  house  ;  then  through  a  hall,  and  upstairs,  where  we 
took  off  our  cloaks  and  titivated  up  a  little  in  a  room  half  full 
of  ladies,  and  blocked  up  with  cloaks  and  things.  I  let  down 
Cousin  E.  E.'s  dress,  and  she  let  down  mine ;  then  we  shook 
each  other  out,  took  an  observation  of  each  other  from  head 
to  foot,  tightened  the  buttons  of  our  gloves,  and  went  into  the 
hall. 

There  stood  Cousin  Dempster,  with  his  white  gloves  on,  and 
a  white  cravat  with  lace  edges  around  his  neck,  looking  so 
gentlemanly.  We  went  downstairs  Indian  file,  for  a  stream  of 
people  were  going  down  on  one  side  all  criinlicued  off  most 
gorgeously ;  and  another  stream  was  going  up,  with  cloaks 
and  hoods  on,  so  there  was  no  locking  arms  till  we  got  into 
the  lower  hall.  Then  we  just  tackled  in.  I  took  one  arm,  E. 
E.  took  the  other,  and  that  creature  followed  after,  looking  like 
an  infantile  Black  Crook  in  her  short  muslin  skirts  and 
bunched-up  sash. 


132  Mr.  Grccleys  Birthday  Party. 


XXIX. 


I  HE  parlors  were  large  and  light,  and  crowded  full. 
Just  beyond  the  door  I  saw  a  man  standing,  with 
both  hands  at  work,  shaking  out  welcomes  to  his 
friends,  as  a  chestnut  bough  rattles  down  nuts  after  a  rousing 
frost. 

There  he  stood — the  honored  son  of  our  dear  old  State — 
looking  benign  as  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  sweet-tempered 
as  if  he  had  fed  on  native  maple-sugar  all  his  life.  I  looked 
eagerly  for  his  "  old  white  coat,"  but  he  had  on  a  bran-new 
black  one  ;  his  hair,  long  and  snow-white,  fell  down  almost  to 
his  shoulders,  that  were  rather  broad  than  otherwise,  which  is 
needful  considering  the  burdens  that  have  been  piled  on  them. 
I  really  think  any  stranger,  going  in  there,  would  have  known 
that  this  man  owned  a  birthday  by  his  face,  it  was  so  radiant 
with  good-nature. 

By  and  by  wo  hustled  our  way  to  the  door.  A  man  that 
stood  there  whispered  something  to  Cousin  Dempster,  who 
whispered  back.  Then  the  man  sung  out — 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dempster — Miss  Phcemie  Frost !  " 

Mercy  on  me,  wasn't  there  a  fluttering  when  that  name  rang 
through  the  crowd,  as  if  blown  by  the  trumpet  of  Fame.  I 
felt  myself  blushing  from  head  to  foot,  my  heart  rose  into  my 
mouth.  I  clung  with  feminine  reliance  on  my  cousin's  arm, 
and,  thus  supported,  prepared  to  endure  the  hundreds  of  admir 
ing  eyes  bent  upon  me. 

Mr.  Greeley  came  forward.  The  moment  he  heard  tha^ 
name  he  seized  the  two  whitely  gloved  hands  that  I  held  out 
to  him. 

"  Miss  Frost,  of  Vermont,"  says  he. 

I  pressed  his  hands.  I  could  not  speak.  A  little  address, 
full  of  poetry,  that  I  had  been  thinking  over  in  my  mind, 


Mr.  Greeley' s  Birthday  Party,  133 

melted  into  chaos.  I  could  only  murmur  something  about 
birthdays  and  long  lives.  Then  some  new  people  crowded  me 
away,  and  1  felt  myself  alone  long  enough  to  take  a  look  at  the 
rooms.  They  were  gorgeous  with  pictures  and  flowers  ;  radiant 
with  gas,  which  fell  like  August  sunshine  through  a  thicket  of 
vines,  and  flowers  woven  in  among  the  burners  in  the  chande 
lier,  and  dropping  down  half  way  to  the  floor. 

The  marble  slabs  under  the  looking-glass  at  each  end  of  the 
rooms  were  matted  over  with  flowers,  and  from  the  top  streamed 
down  long  feathery  vines  which  ended  in  little  bunches  of  red 
roses  that  swung  loose  before  the  glass,  and  left  another  vine 
there.  Over  the  doors  and  windows  these  vines  and  flowers 
trailed  themselves  everywhere.  Some  beautiful  pictures  were 
on  the  walls.  The  centre  one  was  of  Greeley  himself — just  like 
him — bland  and  serene,  smiling  down  upon  the  crowd  as  if  he 
longed  to  shake  hands  over  again. 

This  picture  was  j  ust  crowned  with  a  mat  of  white  flowers, 
in  which  the  year  our  Greeley  was  born,  and  the  present  year, 
were  woven  with  bright  red  flowers.  Down  each  side  the 
feathery  vines  trailed  and  quivered.  I  tell  you,  sisters,  it  was 
beautiful. 

Before  I  could  take  in  a  full  view, 'people  had  found  out 
where  I  stood,  and  came  crowding  round  me  so  close  that  I 
had  to  take  in  a  reef  of  my  pink  silk  dress,  and  they  kept 
Cousin  Dempster  busy  as  a  bee  introducing  them.  So  many 
people  had  read  my  writings,  so  many  people  had  been  dying 
to  see  me,  it  was  enough  to  bring  blushes  to  my  cheeks  and 
tears  to  my  eyes.  This,  said  I,  is  fame — and  all  Vermont  shall 
hear  of  it,  not  for  my  sake,  but  in  behalf  of  the  Society. 

The  rooms  had  been  full  of  music  all  the  time,  but  now  the 
toot  horns  and  fiddles  stopped,  and  I  heard  the  tones  of  a 
pianoforte  from  the  further  end  of  the  room.,  then  a  voice  struck 
in — loud,  clear,  ringing.  We  pressed  forward,  people  made 
way  for  us,  and  we  got  into  the  ring. 

A  young  lady  was  standing  by  the  pianoforte,  singing  "  Auld 
Lang  Syne."  Greeley  stood  by  her,  holding  her  bouquet  in  his 


134  Mr.  Greeley' s  Birthday  Party 

hand.  How  smiling,  how  satisfied  he  looked  as  the  heart- 
stirring  old  song  rang  over  him  !  Close  by  stood  his  only 
sister,  Mrs.  Cleveland,  a  fair  and  real  handsome  woman,  dressed 
in  blue  silk,  with  a  white  lace  shawl  a-shimmering  over 
it.  She  looked  happy  as  a  blue  jay  on  an  apple-tree  bough,  and 
made  everybody  welcome  over  again  when  Mr.  Greeley  had 
done  it  once — just  as  a  kind,  warm-hearted  woman  ought  to 
stand  by  a  brother  she  is  proud  of,  and  looks  like. 

Near  by  were  her  two  daughters,  just  the  nicest  girls  you 
ever  saw.  One  of  'em  in  a  pink  satin  dress  with  lace  over  it, 
and  the  other  in  blue  satin  with  lace — just  lovely! 

"When  the  lady  who  did  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  went  away  from 
the  pianoforte,  every  lady  in  the  room  began  to  clap  hands, 
they  seemed  to  be  so  glad  that  Mr.  Greeley  had  found  time  to 
have  a  birthday.  Then  Miss  Cleveland,  in  the  blue  dress,  sat 
down,  looking  sweet  and  modest  as  a  white  dove ;  and  she 
sang,  too,  real  sweet ;  and  then  the  people  began  to  clap  hands 
again.  It  seemed  as  if  music  just  set  them  off  into  tantrums 
of  delight  because  our  great  white-headed  Verrnonter  had  ever 
been  born. 

I  joined  in  with  a  vim;  for  if  there  is- anybody  I  like  and 
am  proud  of,  it  is  the  man  who  was  standing  there  smiling 
among  his  friends,  with  that  great,  lovely  bunch  of  flowers  in 
his  hands,  and  a  little  one  in  the  button-hole  of  his  coat. 

The  wife  and  two  daughters  of  our  statesman  and  friend 
were  over  in  England,  so  that  his  family  connections  didn't 
spread  as  if  he  had  been  President  of  the  United  States.  But 
then  he  had  a  great  many  honest  friends,  and  that  made 
up  for  it  considerably.  There  stood  Mr.  and  Mrs.4A.  J.  John 
son,  who  had  carpeted  their  stone  steps,  set  up  a  tent  over  their 
hospitable  door,  and  turned  their  parlors  into  a  blooming  gar 
den,  just  to  show  the  respect  they  had  for  him ;  and  they  did 
it  beautifully,  making  his  friends  theirs.  At  any  rate,  I  can 
answer  for  one  ;  for  any  person  who  does  honor  to  a  Vermont 
man  who  has  glorified  his  State,  can  count  on  the  faithful 
friendship  of  Fhoeinie  Frost  during  his  natural  life. 


Leap    Year.  135 

At  eleven  o'clock,  exactly,  we  all  crowded  around  Mr. 
Greeley,  and  shook  hands  with  him  over  again.  Then  we 
shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  looked  sweet,  and  was 
nice  as  nice  could  be;  and  with  Mr.  Johnson,  and  so  on. 
After  that,  we  all  flocked  out,  with  cloaks  and  hoods  on,  feel 
ing  that  an  evening  like  that  was  a  refreshing  season  which 
will  not  be  forgotten  by  some  of  us,  so  long  as  we  live. 

One  thing  I  forgot  to  mention — and  I  do  it  now,  with  tears 
in  my  eyes.  In  the  front  parlor,  on  a  line  with  Mr.  Greeley's 
picture,  was  one  that  made  the  heart  ache  in  my  bosom,  and 
which  will  bring  tears  into  your  eyes,  one  and  all,  I  know. 
It  was  the  picture  of  Alice  Gary.  You  have  read  her  poetry ; 
you  know  how  good  she  was  from  that  poetry ;  but  I  have 
learned  some  things  about  her  here,  that,  as  a  Society,  you 
should  hear  about.  But  I  respect  her  memory  so  much  that  it 
must  be  in  a  report  by  itself.  She  was  a  great  friend  of  Mr. 
Greeley's,  and  her  shadow  seemed  to  smile  on  him  as  it  hung 
upon  the  wall. 


XXX. 

LEAP   YEAR. 

]O  you  know  that  this  is  Leap  Year  ?  Do  you  begin 
to  feel  the  glorious  flood  of  liberty  which  it  lets  in 
upon  the  female  women  of  this  country  ?  As  a  soci 
ety  and  as  individuals,  let  us  press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the 
prize — I  beg  pardon. 

This  is  not  exactly  a  religious  subject,  though  it  does  relate 
to  the  hymeneal  altar,  at  which  we  have  never  yet  been  per 
mitted  to  worship — a  lasting  and  burning  shame,  which  I,  for 
one,  begin  to  feel  more  deeply  every  day  of  my  life. 

True,  my  own  prospects  are  brightening  and  glorifying,  but 
circumstances  have  brought  them,  for  the  present,  to  a  dead 


136  Leap    Year. 

halt.  But  for  the  burst  of  golden  sunshine  let  into  my  sad 
destiny  by  this  opening  Leap  Year,  I  should  be  growing  pale 
with  suspense — for  you  know  the  great  Grand  Duke,  though 
courteous  and  devotional,  did  not  speak  out  in  a  perfectly  sat 
isfactory  manner.  I  knew  he  meant  it;  for  no  robin's  nest  in 
laying  time  was  ever  so  full  of  warm  and  brooding  love  as 
those  blue  eyes  of  his.  But  a  cruel  fate  took  him  hence  before 
the  thrilling  word  was  spoken,  and  left  me  trembling  with 
doubt,  pining  in  loneliness. 

I  know  the  reason  of  this  now  ;  there  is  not  a  doubt  that  he 
has  been  anxious,  like  myself,  but  imperial  royalty  has  its  im 
pediments.  My  Prince  must  bow  to  the  exactions  of  a  lofty 
station.  I  took  up  a  paper  the  other  day,  and  read  something 
that  made  the  heart  leap  in  my  bosom  as  a  trout  jumps  after  a 
fly.  The  Emperor  has  heard  of  the  great  Grand  Duke's  admira 
tion.  All  Tlussia  has  heard  of  it  and  me.  It  is  even  reported 
that  he  has  married  a  lovely  and  talented  female,  without  wait 
ing  for  the  Emperor  to  say  yes  or  no.  The  description  answers, 
you  will  perceive.  I  felt  myself  blush,  like  a  rose  in  the  sun 
set,  when  I  read  it.  "  Lovely  and  talented."  Sisters,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  about  it ! 

I  felt  my  cheeks  burn  and  my  heart  broaden  with  a  sense  of 
coming  exaltation.  Why  should  the  Emperor  refuse  ?  Are 
we  not  all  queens  in  this  country,  and  is  not  a  woman  of 
genius  an  empress  among  queens  ? 

I'm  afraid  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Russias  does  not  yet  com 
prehend  the  great  social  system  of  our  country,  where  the  fact 
of  being  a  woman  has  infinite  nobility  in  itself — to  which  pe 
culiar  privileges  are  attached;  for  instance,  the  privilege  of 
carrying  pistols  and  shooting  down  men  in  hallways  and  street 
cars  in  a  promiscuous  fashion. 

As  I  have  said — to  be  a  woman'  in  America  is  to  be  every 
thing.  That  is  why  I  think  it  unreasonable  that  Imperial  no 
bility  should  be  forbidden  to  match  itself  here.  Once  we  had 
aristocracy  of  money,  but  since  the  war,  when  people  became 
rich  in  no  time  by  selling  shoddy  and  things,  that  has  levelled 


Leap    Year.  137 

down  like  a  sand  heap.  But  one  aristocracy  is  left  now,  and 
that  is  the  aristocracy  of  mind.  Genius  is  the  nobility  of  the 
mind.  Now  as  long  as  the  Prince  unites  himself  with  that, 
what  has  any  one,  even  his  august  father,  to  say  against  it  ? 

But  there  is  no  doubt  I  have  given  the  Imperial  heart  some 
anxiety.  His  manner  was  so  impressive ;  his  spy-glass  was 
levelled  at  my  countenance  so  often,  that  it  is  not  to  be  won 
dered  at  if  the  violence  of  his  passionate  admiration  did  get  about 
and  fly  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  to  his  Imperial  home.  There 
it  was  sure  to  make  an  excitement.  American  ladies  have 
married  lords  and  marquises  in  England,  counts  and  princes 
in  other  countries,  arid  make  first-rate  lordesses  and  marchion 
esses  and  princesses  too.  In  fact,  just  as  good  as  the  born  no 
bility,  and  better  too  ;  but  up  to  this  time  it  is  left  to  a  lovely 
.woman  of  genius  to  exalt  America  into  the  region  of  imperial 
highness.  Money — for  your  tards,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  generally 
want  that  with  American  beauty  and  grace — money  has  done 
its  utmost.  Now  genius  comes  in,  and  modesty  crowns 
itself. 

I  am  satisfied  that  the  great  Grand  Duke  is  only  waiting, 
from  a  feeling  of  doubt  and  'modesty.  My  heart  compassion 
ates  him.  Up  to  the  first  of  January,  I  could  do  no  more. 
Female  propriety  forbade  it,  but  now — now  all  is  charged. 
Modesty  is  disenthralled. 

It  is  Leap  Year.  St.  Valentine's  Day  approaches.  The 
windows  of  every  book-store  are  a-blazing  with  valentines, 
burning  with  love,  eloquent  of  the  tender  passions,  pictorial 
and  poetical. 

The  Queen  of  England  offered  herself  to  Prince  Albert.  It 
must  have  been  a  touching  scene.  How  modestly  she  suggested 
the  flame  that  was  kindled  in  her  youthful  heart,  and  still  lies 
smouldering  in  the  ashes  of  that  good  man's  grave.  I  don't 
think  she  waited  for  Leap  Year — but  I  will.  No  one  shall  say 
that  Phcemie  Frost  has  forgotten  what  is  due  to  her  sex. 

St.  Valentine's  Day  emancipates  the  womanly  heart.  I  have 
bought  a  valentine,  white  satin,  surrounded  by  a  frost  work 


138  Leap    Year. 

of  silver  lace,  sprinkled  with  gold  stars.  On  the  satin  is  a  lit 
tle  boy  with  wings,  hiding  behind  a  rose-bush,  firing  arrows 
through  it  from  a  bow  which  he  lifts  up  roguishly.  These  ar 
rows  are  aimed  at  an  Imperial  figure  mounted  on  a  wild  horse, 
and  running  down  a  buffalo — a  unique  and  beautifully  sug 
gestive  idea.  This  was  the  poem  which  gushed  with  sponta- 
neosity  from  my  disenthralled  mind  : 

Come  back,  come  back,  from  the  buffalo  raid  ! 

Here  is  fairer  game  for  you  ; 
At  thy  feet  the  lovingest  heart  is  laid 

That  ever  a  Grand  Duke  knew. 
A  lady  rich  in  womanly  pride, 

Whose  soul  clings  unto  thine, 
Is  ready  to  be  an  Imperial  bride — 

Kneel  with  thee  at  Hymen's  shrine. 
Come  back,  come  back,  or  thy  haughty  sire 

Will  command,  and  all  is  lost ; 
But  he  cannot  extinguish  this  holy  fire 

In  the  bosom  of 

Sisters,  I  ask  you  now,  isn't  this  a  gem?  It  isn't  just  the 
thing  to  put  your  name  to  a  valentine,  they  tell  me,  but  this  is 
something  deeper  and  more  poetic  than  such  things  usually 
are.  It  means  mischief,  as  Cousin  Dempster  savs.  It  is  a 
proposal,  buried  in  roses  and  veiled  in  sweet  and  modest  verse, 
such  as  a  lady  might  almost  send  at  any  time  with  a  few 
blushes.  It  will  reach  him  out  in  that  vast  wilderness  of  dead 
grass,  where  he  has  been  deluded  off  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  has 
risked  his  precious  life  in  a  terrific  manner,  shooting  great, 
monstrous  buffaloes,  which  are  animals,  they  tell  me,  something 
like  an  overgrown  ox,  only  the  hair  is  longer,  and  they  are  kind 
of  hunched-up  about  the  upper  end  of  the  back,  just  as  if  the 
last  city  fashions  among  ladies  had  got  to  be  the  rage  out  there. 

Imagine  my  feelings,  sisters,  when  I  heard  that  the  Grand 
Duke  was  off  with  that  fellow  and  a  squad  of  wild  Indians,  all 
in  war-paint  and  tomahawks,  hunting  these  terrific  creatures. 
It  almost  made  me  feel  like  a  widow.  There  he  was,  brought 


Leap   Year.  J39 

up  so  tenderly,  eating  broiled  buffalo  hump,  and  drinking 
champagne  and  things  out  in  the  open  lots,  as  big  as  all  out 
doors,  and  sleeping  in  a  tent.  Think  of  it !  With  his  own 
right  hand  he  shot  down  twenty-five  of  these  humpbacked 
monsters,  and  means  to  carry  their  skins  home  with  him  to 
Russia.  I  suppose  Mr.  Philip  Sheridan  will  be  for  studying 
the  military  tactics  of  Russia  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Siberia  as 
soon  as  the  great  Grand  Duke  gets  back,  for  he  isn't  the  sort 
of  fellow,  folks  tell  me,  to  give  up  a  chance  like  that.  Gover 
nor  Palmer,  of  Illinois,  has,  at  any  rate,  given  him  leave  of 
absence  from  the  Chicago  fires,  and  there  isn't  anything  much 
to  keep  him  from  hunting  in  Siberia  if  he  wants  to. 

Well,  I  got  my  valentine  all  ready ;  directed  it  to  the  Grand 
Duke  in  a  delicate,  ladylike  way,  and  took  it  with  my  own 
hands  down  to  the  post-office. 

"  Be  very  careful  of  this,"  says  I  to  a  young  man  who  stood 
at  the  post-office  window,  "  and  see  that  it  goes  straight  to  his 
Royal  Highness ;  I  want  it  to  reach  him  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning  on  Valentine's  Day." 

He  looked  at  the  address,  and  muttered  to  himself : 

"  For  His  Royal  Highness  the  Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Rus- 
sias :  care  of  Philip  Sheridan  and  a  wild  Indian  whose  name  a 
refined  lady  could  not  bring  herself  to  pronounce ;  Buffalo 
Plains,  America." 

"  My  dear  madame,"  says  he,  all  at  once,  "  this  is  no  address 
at  all ;  it  would  never  reach  the  Grand  Duke." 

I  caught  my  breath. 

"  Not  reach  him  ?  "  says  I. 

"  No,"  says  he ;  "  the  Grand  Duke  has  gone  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  mails." 

"  Goodness  gracious !  "  says  I ;  "  but  no  matter  about  that, 
if  he  hasn't  got  out  of  the  reach  of  the  females." 

"  But  he  has." 

My  heart  sank  in  my  bosom  like  a  soggy  apple-dumpling. 

"  What— all  females  ?  "  says  I.  "  Won't  that  reach  him,  any 
way  ?  it  is  important — very.  Great  destinies  depend  upon  it." 


140  A  Man  that   Wouldn't   Take  Money. 

"  I  can  put  it  in,"  says  he  ;  "  but  ten  chances  to  one  it  will 
get  into  the  dead-letter  office." 

My  heart  grew  heavier  and  heavier,  but  what  could  I  do  ? 

"  Put  it  in,"  says  I ;  "  live  or  die,  it  must  go  !  " 

lie  took  my  valentine  and  pitched  it  off  into  a  heap  of  let 
ters,  just  as  if  it  had  been  a  dead  leaf.  It  fairly  made  me  faint 
to  see  it  handled  so ;  but  the  fellow  turned  his  back  on  me,  and 
I  went  away  heart-sick. 

One  comfort  I  had  in  all  this — if  my  valentine  could  not 
reach  him,  that  of  no  other  female  could  ;  and  my  offer  is  sure 
to  be  first,  though  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  girl  who  sent  him 
her  card  tied  round  a  canary  bird's  neck  might  try.  She's  for 
ward  enough,  anyway. 

Then,  there  is  another  comfort — Valentine's  Day  don't  cover 
the  whole  Leap  Year,  and  there  are  other  men  than  the  great 
Grand  Duke  in  the- world.  We  females  have  a  whole  twelve 
months  to  try  our  luck  in.  Of  course  any  of  us  would  aim 
high  the  first  months ;  but  after  that,  the  game  will  grow 
smaller  and  wilder,  as  a  general  thing,  and  our  chances  less. 

For  my  part,  I  mean  to  be  up  and  doing.  One  disappoint 
ment  isn't  going  to  break  my  heart ;  I've  had  too  many  for 
that ;  but  if  human  energy  and  human  genius  can  avail  any 
thing  against  an  adverse  destiny,  my  signature  will  be  changed 
before  this  year  closes. 


XXXI. 


|OUSIN  DEMPSTER  is  real  good  to  me  ;  no  mistake 
about  that.  A  day  or  two  ago,  he  says  to  his  wife, 
says  he : 

"  Supposing   we  take   Cousin   Plicemie   down  to    an   oyster 
lunch  at  Fulton  Market.    That  is  one  of  the  lions  of  the  city." 


A  Man  that  Wouldn't   Take  Money.  141 

I  fairly  hopped  up  from  ray  chair  when  he  said  this,  just  as 
cool  and  easy  as  if  he  had  been  talking  of  rabbits  lapping  milk. 
What  on  earth  had  I  to  do  with  city  lions,  and  such  animals? 
"Wild  beasts  like  these  are  in  no  part  of  my  mission,  now  are 

they? 

Cousin  E.  E.  saw  the  scare  in  my  eyes,  and  smiled. 

"  I  know  it  seems  strange  to  people  from  outside,"  says  she ; 
"  and  it  really  is  a  dirty  place ;  but  somehow  ladies  and  gentle 
men  have  made  it  the  rage." 

"  Do  the  creatures  rage  fiercely  ?  "  says  I. 

Cousin  E.  E.  looked  puzzled  a  minnte,  then  she  answered : 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  "  fashion  takes  queer  twists  sometimes ;  in 
this  case  it  really  is  unaccountable.  The  people  crowding  into 
those  wooden  dens— and  the  eating  done  there  is  wonderful." 

"  Eating  !  "  says  I,  feeling  my  eyes  grow  big  as  saucers. 
"  Eating !  Do  they  feed  before  folks,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  every  lady  goes  ;  you  never  saw  anything  like  it. 
Such  Kockaways  and  other  bivalves  are  to  be  found  nowhere 
else." 

"  Eockaways  and  bivalves!"  thinks  I  to  myself;  "what 
kind  of  animals  are  they  ?  Never  heard  of  bivalves  before 
in  my  whole  life,  but  the  other  puts  me  in  mind  of  old 
Grandma  Frost's  splint-bottomed  rocking-chair.  No  need  of 
saying  rock-away  to  her,  for  she  was  always  on  the  teater. 
But  she's  dead  now,  and  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  her  Boston 
rocker  it  was  away  back  of  the  chimney,  at  the  old  homestead, 
scrouged  in  between  the  stones  and  the  clapboards,  with  one 
rocker  torn  off  and  an  arm  broken.  I  couldn't  help  asking 
Cousin  E.  E.  if  she  remembered  that  chair. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  she  ;  "  somebody  hustled  it  off  into  the  gar 
ret  the  moment  she'd  done  with  it.  I  saw  it  there  a  year  after 
the  funeral,  with  the  patchwork  cushion  of  red  and  blue  cloth 
moth-eaten  and  gray  with  dust." 

Now,  my  father  owned. the  old  homestead  while  he  lived,  and 
I  took  this  as  a  slur  on  our  branch  of  the  Frost  family.  This 
riled  me  internally,  but  I  couldn't  contradict  her,  and  felt  my- 


142  A  Man  that  IVouldn't   Take  Money. 

self  blushing  hotly,  rather  ashamed  of  the  Frost  family.  But 
the  truth  is,  as  a  race,  we  are  none  of  us  given  to  much  an 
tiquity.  No  female  of  our  family  was  ever  known  to  get  over 
forty-nine  in  her  own  person,  though  many  of  them  have  lived 
to  a  wonderful  old  age.  This  was  curious,  but  a  fact.  Such 
unaccountable  things  do  sometimes  run  in  families.  But  these 
are  facts  that  I  sometimes  choke  down — I  did  it  now. 

"  We  were  talking  of  something  else,  and  got  on  to  chairs," 
says  I. 

tl  No  uncommon  thing,"  says  Cousin  Dempster,  laughing. 

I  laughed  too,  but  that  child  turned  up  her  sniffy  nose,  and, 
looking  at  her  father,  said  : 

"  The  idea!  "  which  wilted  him  down  at  once. 

"  But  these  bivalves  and  Rockaways — what  do  they  do  with 
them?" 

il  Why,  eat  them,  of  course." 

"Eat  them?     How?" 

"Raw." 

"  Mercy  on  me  !     Raw  ?  " 

"  Well,  Cousin  E.  E.,  it  shan't  be  said  that  you  are  related 
to  a  coward.  I'll  go  down  to  see  these  city  lions ;  but  when  ?  " 

"  Well,  to-day,"  says  Cousin  Dempster.  "  Just  come  down 
to  the  office  about  noon,  and  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I,  feeling  a  little  shivery. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go,  darling  ?  "  says  he  speaking  to  his 
little  girl,  as  if  half  afraid. 

"  Me,  papa,  down  to  that  horrid  place  all  meat  and  butter, 
and  fish  and  things  ?  The  idea !  " 

I  was  so  grateful  to  the  stuck-up  thing,  that  I'm  afraid 
Cousin  E.  E.  saw  it  in  my  eyes,  for  she  sort  of  clouded  over 
and  said : 

"  That,  after  all,  she  didn't  think  she  cared  to  go,  but  that 
needn't  keep  Cousin  Phcernie  at  home.  Mr.  Dempster  would 
take  her."  * 

"  Well,  just  as  you  please,"  says  he,  a-taking  his  hat,  "  I'm 
at  your  service — singly  or  in  groups.  Good-morning." 


A  Man  that  Wouldn't   Take  Money.  143 

Well,  in  the  afternoon,  I  asked  Cousin  E.  E.,  in  a  kind  of 
natural  way,  if  she  meant  to  go  to  that  feed.  But  that  child 
called  out : 

"No,  no,  mamma,  don't  go;  I  won't  be  left  alone." 

So  Cousin  E.  E.  said  she  had  a  bad  headache,  and  thought 
she  wouldn't  go,  but  that  needn't  keep  me. 

Now,  sisters,  I  wasn't  brought  up  in  the  woods  to  be  scared 
by  owls,  as  we  say  in  our  parts — and  if  that  little  upstart 
thought  she  would  keep  me  at  home  by  domineering  over  her 
mother,  she  soon  found  out  her  mistake,  for  in  less  than  two 
minutes  a  young  lady,  of  about  my  size,  came  downstairs,  with 
her  beehive  bonnet  on,  a  satchel  in  one  hand  and  an  umbrella 
in  the  other. 

"You  will  find  the  way  easy  enough,"  says  Cousin  E.  E. 
"  The  cars  take  you  close  to  the  office,  and  you  will  get  splendid 
oysters  at  the  market." 

Oysters  !  the  very  word  made  my  mouth  water,  for  if  there 
is  a  thing  on  earth  that  I  deliciously  adore,  it  is  oysters — such 
as  you  get  here  in  York. 

"  Oysters  !  "  says  I,  «  why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?  " 

"  We  did,"  says  she ;  "  of  course  we  did  !  " 

1  was  too  polite  to  contradict  her ;  but  I'll  take  my  Bible 
oath  that  not  one  word  about  shell-fish  of  any  kind  had  been 
mentioned  that  morning — nothing  but  a  great  city  lion,  Rocka- 
ways,  bivalves,  and  animals  like  them.  Still  I  said  nothing, 
but  went  out  encouraged  by  the  idea  that  I  was  to  have  some 
thing  to  eat  as  well  as  the  lion. 

It  was  afternoon,  and  the  street-car  wasn't  overfull,  so  I 
took  a  seat  in  one  corner  and  began  to  think  over  a  piece  of 
poetry  that  I  have  got  into  my  mind,  which  shortened  the  way 
to  Dempster's  office  wonderfully.  In  less  than  no  time  I 
seemed  to  get  there,  but  he  had  just  stepped  out.  One  of  the 
clerks  said  that  he  thought  he  had  gone  to  the  market  for  lunch. 
Oh,  mercy !  I  felt  as  if  my  oysters  were  all  out  to  sea  again. 
I  was  too  late. 

"  Which  is  the  way  to  the  market  ?  "  says  I. 


144  A  Democratic  Lunch. 

cc  I  will  show  yon,"  says  he — which  he  did — walking  by  my 
side  till  I  got  in  sight  of  a  long,  low,  broad-spreading  building 
that  seemed  all  roof,  and  stone  floors  opening  everywhere  right 
into  the  street. 

"  Now,"  says  the  young  gentleman,  "  you  won't  help  finding 
your  way,  for  there  is  Mr.  Dempster  himself." 

He  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  so  politely  that  I  felt  impressed 
with  a  desire  to  reward  him.  Taking  out  my  pocket-book,  I 
handed  him  a  ten-cent  stamp,  with  a  grateful  and  most  benev 
olent  smile  on  my  countenance.  I.  am  sure  of  that  from  the 
glow  I  felt.  He  blushed — he  seemed  to  choke — he  stepped 
back  and  put  on  his  hat  with  a  jerk,  but  he  didn't  roach  out 
his  hand  with  the  grateful  spontaneosity  I  expected.  His 
modesty  touched  me. 

"  Take  it,"  says  I,  "  it  is  no  more  than  you  deserve." 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  he ;  and  his  face  was  as  red  as  a  fireman's 
jacket. 

"  Good-afternoon;  "  and  as  true  as  you  live  he  went  off  with 
out  taking  the  money.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it. 


XXXII. 

A    DEMOCRATIC    LUNCH. 

|S  soon  as  T  could  recover  from  the  surprise  any  New- 
England  woman  would  feel  at  a  thing  like  this,  I  saw 
Cousin  Dempster  coining  toward  me. 
"  Come,  hurry  up,"  says  he.     "  You  were  so  late,  I  thought 
perhaps  you  had  misunderstood,  and  come  directly  here.     This 
way ;    be  careful  where   you  step ;  Fulton  market  is  not  the 
neatest  place  on  earth." 

I  was  careful,  and  lifting  the  skirt  of  my  alpaca  dress  be 
tween  my  thumb  and  finger,  gave  a  nipping  jump,  and  cleared 


A  Democratic  Lunch.  145 

a  gutter  that  ran  between  Cousin  D.  and  myself.  Then  we 
walked  into  the  market,  with  a  whole  crowd  of  other  people, 
and  trained  along  between  baskets  and  square  wooden  pens 
heaped  up  with  oranges,  and  things  called  bananas — gold- 
colored,  and  bunched-up  like  sausages,  but  awful  good  to  eat. 
Potatoes,  apples,  books,  peanuts,  chestnuts,  pies,  cakes,  and  no 
end  of  things,  were  heaped  on  high  benches  on  each  side  of  us 
wherever  we  turned,  till  at  last  we  passed  through  an  encamp 
ment  of  empty  meat-stands,  and  from  that  into  a  wooden  lane 
with  open  rooms  on  one  hand,  and  piles  on  piles  of  oysters  on 
each  side  the  door. 

Every  one  of  these  rooms  had  a  great  rousing  fire  burning 
and  roaring  before  it,  and  a  lot  of  men  diving  in  amongst  the 
oysters,  with  sharp  knives  in  their  hands. 

"  Let  us  go  in  here,"  says  Cousin  Dempster,  turning  toward 
one  of  the  rooms  that  looked  cheerful  and  neat  as  a  pink.  The 
floor  was  sprinkled  with  white  sand,  and  the  tables  had  marble 
tops,  white  as  tombstones,  but  more  cheerful  by  half.  As  we 
went  in,  a  man  by  the  door  called  out,  "  Tuw  stews !  "  Then 
again,  "  One  roast — one  raw  on  half-shell !  " 

Another  man  began  firing  pots  and  pans  at  the  heap  of  blaz 
ing  coals  before  him  the  moment  this  fellow  stopped  for  breath. 
All  this  made  me  so  hungry  that  I  really  felt  as  if  I  couldn't 
wait ;  but  I  kind  of  smarted  back  when  I  saw  ever  so  many 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  the  room,  sitting  by  tl^e  tables  and 
feeding  deliciously.  Some  of  the  men  had  their  hats  on,  which 
did  not  strike  me  as  over-genteel.  But,  after  this  one  halt,  I 
entered  with  dignity,  placed  my  satchel  in  a  corner,  and  took 
an  upright  position  on  one  of  the  wooden  chairs.  Cousin 
Dempster  sat  down,  too.  He  took  his  hat  off,  which  I  felt  as 
complimentary,  and  a  touch  of  the  aristocratic. 

"  Now,  what  shall  we  have  ?  "  says  he. 

"  A  stew,"  says  I,  with  a  feeling  of  thanksgiving  in  my 
mouth. 

Cousin  D.  said  something  in  a  low  voice  to  the  young  inan? 
who  went  to  the  door,  and  called  out; 
7 


146  A  Democratic  Lunch. 

"  One  roast  1  one  stew — Saddlerock  !  " 

I  started  up  and  caught  that  young  man  by  the  arm,  a-feeling 
as  if  I  had  got  hold  of  a  cannibal.  Saddlerocks,  indeed  ! 

"  Young  man,"  says  I,  "  you  have  mistaken  your  party ;  we 
didn't  ask  for  stewed  grindstones — only  oysters." 

He  looked  at  me,  at  first,  wild  as  a  night-hawk,  and  seemed 
a  3  if  he  wanted  to  run  away. 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  says  I;  "no  harm  is  intended  ;  it  is  an 
oyster  stew  that  we  want — nothing  more.  I'm  not  fond  of 
hard  meat.  If  you  don't  know  how  to  cook  them — which  is 
natural,  being  a  man — I  can  tell  you.  Now  be  particular — 
put  in  half  milk,  a  considerable  chunk  of  butter,  not  too  much 
pepper,  and  just  let  them  come  to  a  boil — no  more.  I  do  hate 
oysters  stewed  to  death.  You  understand  ?  "  says  I,  counting 
over  the  ingredients  on  my  fingers — "  now  go  and  do  your  duty." 

"  Yes'in,"  says  he,  and  goes  right  to  the  door,  and  sings  out : 
"One  stew! — one  roast!"  so  loud  that  it  made  me  jump. 
Then  he  came  back  into  the  room,  while  I  retired,  with  dig 
nity,  to  my  seat  by  the  table. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Cousin  Dempster  didn't  quite  like  what 
I  had  done,  for  his  face  was  red  as  fire  when  I  sat  down  again, 
and  I  heard  him  mutter  something  about  the  eccentricities  of 
genius.  Indeed,  I'm  afraid  a  profane  word  came  with  it, 
though  I  pretended  not  to  hear. 

By  and  by,  in  came  the  waiter-man,  with  two  plates  of 
cabbage  cut  fine,  and  chucked  a  vinegar  cruet  down  before  me ; 
then  he  clapped  salt  and  pepper  before  Cousin  D.,  with  a  plate 
of  little  crackers.  Then  he  went  away  again,  and  came  back 
with  two  plates  full  of  great,  pussy  oysters,  steaming  hot,  and 
so  appetizing,  that  a  hungry  person  might  have  made  a  luscious 
meal  on  the  steam. 

Oh,  Sisters !  you  never  will  know  what  good  eating  is  till 
you've  been  down  to  the  Fulton  Market,  and  feasted  on  oysters 
there  ;  you  can't  get  'em  first-rate  in  any  other  place.  Try  it, 
and  you'll  find  'em  weak  as  weakness  compared  to  these.  Hot, 
plump,  delicious !  The  very  memory  of  them  is  enough  to 


A  Democratic  Lunch.  147 

keep  a  reasonable  person  from  being  hungry  a  week.  Talk  of 
Delrnonico's !  I  never  was  there ;  but  if  it  beats  this  room  in 
the  Fulton  Market  in  the  way  of  shell-fish,  I'll  give  up  all  my 
chances  this  Leap  Year. 

Well,  when  we'd  done  eating,  two  pewter  mugs  were  set  on 
the  table,  and  Cousin  Dempster  handed  one  to  me.  I've  heard 
of  the'Se  mugs  as  belonging  to  bar-rooms  and  over  intimate  with 
ale  and  beer — things  that  I  wouldn't  touch  for  anything  on 
earth,  maple-sap  being  my  native  drink — so  I  pushed  the  cup 
away,  really  ashamed  of  Cousin  D. ;  but  he  pushed  it  back  a- 
kind  of  laughing,  and  says  he  : 

"  Just  taste  it." 

"Beer?  "says  I.     «  Never." 

Cousin  D.  lifted  his  mug  to  his  lip,  and  drank  as  if  it  tasted 
good.  I  was  awful  thirsty,  and  this  was  tantalizing. 

"  Try  it,"  says  he,  fixing  his  bright  eyes  on  me.  "  How  do 
you  know  it  is  beer  till  you've  tasted  it  ?  " 

"  Just  so,"  says  I ;  "  I  didn't  think  of  that  ?  " 

I  took  up  the  mug,  and  sipped  a  cautious  sip.  Beer, 
indeed  !  That  pewter  cup  was  brimming  over  with  champagne- 
cider,  that  flashed  and  sparkled  up  to  my  lips  like  kisses  let 
loose.  Then  I  bent  my  head  to  Cousin  Dempster,  and  just 
nodded. 

Never  think  you  have  drank  champagne-cider  till  you've 
taken  it  flashing  from  a  pewter  mug,  after  oysters,  in  Fulton 
Market ;  till  then,  Sisters,  you  will  never  know  how  thoroughly 
good-natured  and  full  of  fun  a  lone  female  can  become.  Some 
people  might  think  champagne -cider  like  maple-sap  with  a 
sparkle  in  it,  for  the  color  is  just  the  same ;  but  it  is  consider 
ably  livelier,  and  a  good  deal  more  so,  especially  when  one 
drinks  it  out  of  a  pewter  cup,  and  hasn't  any  way  of  measuring. 

Bold  !     I  should  think  I  was,  after  that.     Bold  as  brass. 

"  Come,"  says  I,  taking  up  my  satchel,  "  I'm  ready  to  see 
that  city  lion,  the  Kockaways,  and  the  bivalves  fed.  They  have 
no  terrors  for  me  now.  I've  got  over  that.  Where  is  their 
dens,  or  cages,  and  how  often  do  they  feed  ? 


148  A  Democratic  Lunch. 

Cousin  Dempster  set  down  his  pewter  mug,  and  just  stared 
at  mo  with  all  his  eyes. 

"  What  is  it  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  "  says  he. 

"  What !  the  lion,  to  be  sure  !  Didn't  you  say  that  I  would 
see  one  of  the  city  lions  when  I  came  to  Fulton  Market  ?  " 

That  man  must  have  been  possessed.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  he  stooped  forward,  his  face  turned  red,  and,  oh !  my 
how  he  did  laugh  ! 

"  What  possesses  you,  Cousin  D.,"  says  I,  riling  up. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  says  he,  wiping  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  and 
trying  to  stop  laughing,  though  he  couldn't ;  "  only — only  this 
isn't  a  menagerie,  but  a  market.  Did  you  really  think  there 
were  wild  beasts  on  exhibition  ?  It  was  the  market  we 
meant." 

Then  I  remembered  that  E.  E.  had  called  me  a  lion  once. 
Now  it  was  the  market,  and  there  wasn't  a  sign  of  the  wild 
beast  in  either  case.  There  he  sat  laughing  till  he  cried, 
because  I  couldn't  understand  that  ladies  and  markets  were 
not  wild  animals.  Says  I  to  myself,  "  I'll  make  you  laugh  out 
of  the  other  side  of  your  mouth," — so  I  turned  to  him  as  cool 
as  a  cucumber : 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  te-he-ing  about  ?  I  only  want  to 
walk  around  the  market  and  see  what's  going  on.  Isn't  that 
what  we  came  for  ?  " 

Cousin  D.  stopped  laughing,  and  began  to  look  sheepish 
enough. 

"  Is  that  it  ?  "  says  he. 

"  What  else  ?  "  says  I.  «  You  didn't  think  I  expected  this 
great,  big,  low-roofed  market  to  have  paws  and  growl,  did 
you,"  says  I.  "  I  would  growl  if  the  city  were  to  set  me  down 
in  the  mud  of  this  pestiferous  place.  So  you  thought  I  really 
meant  it.  Well,  the  easy  way  in  which  some  men  are  taken  in 
is  astonishing.  They  never  can  understand  metaphor,"  says  I. 
<(  But  the  bivalves  and  Rockaways.  What  of  them?  "  says  I. 

"  Swallowed  them,"  says  he.  Sisters,  the  dizziness  in  my 
stomach  was  awful. 


Dempster  Proposes  a  Trip.  149 


XXXIII. 

DEMPSTER   PROPOSES    A   TRIP. 

||EAR  SISTERS  :— I  have  been  in  Washington.  The 
great  city  of  a  great  nation.  I  have  seen  the  Capitol 
in  all  its  splendid  magnificence,  its  pictures,  its  mar 
bled  floor,  its  fruit  tables,  and  its  underground  eating-rooms. 
I  have  seen  the  White  House,  and  have  had  a  bird's-eye  view 
of  the  President  of  these  United  States. 

I  will  tell  you  how  it  happened.  I  was  getting  anxious  and 
down  in  the  mouth ;  my  valentine  had  been  given  to  the  winds 
of  heaven — no,  they  would  have  carried  it  safely  through  ten 
thousand  herds  of  buffalo  cattle — but  it  had  been  given  to  the 
mails,  and  they  are  so  uncertain,  spell  the  word  which  way 
you  will.  Day  after  day  I  waited  and  watched,  and  sent  down 
to  the  post-office  to  be  sure  there  was  no  mistake  in  that  de 
partment  ;  but  nothing  came  of  it ;  no  answer  reached  me.  I 
became  peaked  and  down-hearted,  so  much  so,  dear  sisters, 
that  Cousin  Dempster  got  anxious  about  me,  and  one  day  asked 
me,  in  the  kindest  manner,  if  I  would  like  to  run  on  to  Wash 
ington  with  him. 

"  Run  on  to  Washington,"  says  I ;  lf  how  far  is  it,  cousin  ?  " 

c '  Why,"  says  he,  "  about  two  hundred  and  thirty  miles,  I 
should  say." 

"  Two  hundred  and  thirty  miles,"  says  I,  almost  scream 
ing.  "  Why,  Cousin  D.,  I  couldn't  do  it  to  save  my  life." 

"  Oh !  "  says  he,  "  it  isn't  a  very  tedious  ride." 

"  Ride,"  says  I.  "  Why,  didn't  you  ask  me  just  now  to  run 
on  with  you  ?  How  can  I  do  both  ?  " 

Cousin  D.  laughed,  and  began  to  rock  up  and  down  till  he 
almost  bent  double  ;  though  what  it  was  about  I  couldn't  begin 
to  tell. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "just  get  your  trunk  or  carpet-bag  packed, 
and  I'll  call  for  you  in  the  morning.  Emily  Elizabeth  can't 


150  Dempster  Proposes  a   Trip. 

leave  home  just  now,  and  it  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  if  I 
can  have  you  along." 

"  If  you'd  just  as  lief,"  says  I,  "  I'll  speak  to  Cousin  E.  E. 
about  it ;  under  present  circumstances,  a  young  girl  like  me 
can't  be  too  particular.  I'm  told  that  a  good  many  .married 
men  have  got  a  habit  of  travelling  toward  Washington  in  what 
seems  like  a  single  state,  and  it's  wonderful  how  many  of 
them  have  unprotected  females  put  under  their  charge — some 
times,  both  ways.  If  E.  E.  has  no  objection,  I'll  be  on  hand 
bright  and  early." 

Dempster  kept  on  laughing,  and  I  went  upstairs  wondering 
what  had  set  him  off  so,  but  when  I  asked  Cousin  E.  E.  if  she 
had  any  objection  to  my  travelling  to  Washington  with  her 
husband,  she  began  to  laugh  too,  as  if  it  was  the  best  sort  of 
a  joke  that  a  York  lady  should  be  expected  to  care  about 
her  husband's  travelling  off  with  other  feminine  women. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  a-wiping  the  fun  and  tears  from  her  eyes 
with  a  lace  handkerchief,  "  what  do  you  think  I  care !  We 
don't  keep  our  husbands  shut  up  in  band-boxes  here  in  the 
great  metropolis.' 

"  No,"  says  I  to  myself,  "  nor  do  you  get  much  chance  to 
shut  'em  up  at  home,  according  to  my  thinking." 

"  Besides,"  says  she,  with  comicality  in  her  eyes,  looking  at 
me  from  head  to  foot:  "  I  should  never  think  of  being  jealous 
of  you,  Cousin  PhcBmie." 

Here,  that  child  looked  up  from  a  novel  she  was  a-reading. 

"  The  idea,"  says  she,  which  was  exasperating ;  especially  as 
Cousin  E.  E.  kept  laughing. 

"  That  is  as  much  as  to  say  you  don't  think  I'm  good-looking 
enough  to  be  afraid  of,"  says  I,  feeling  as  if  a  cold  frost  was 
creeping  over  my  face.  "  Thank  you." 

Cousin  E.  E.  started  up  from  her  lounge,  which  is  a  cush 
ioned  bench  rounded  off  at  one  end,  and  a  high-backed  easy- 
chair  at  the  other ;  and  says  she  : 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,  cousin ;  there  is  no  one  for  whom  I 
have  so  much  respect.  It  was  on  account  of  your  high  relig- 


Dempster  Proposes  a  Trip.  151 

ions  principle  and  beautiful  morality  that  I  was  sp  willing  to 
trust  you  with  my  husband." 

"With  papa.  The  idea!  "  chimed  in  that  child,  giving  her 
head  a  toss.  "  They'll  think  it's  his  mother." 

"  My  daughter ! "  shrieked  E.  E.,  holding  up  both  her 
hands,  and  falling  back  into  the  scoop  of  her  couch. 

"  Oh,  let  her  speak ! "  says  I,  feeling  the  goose  pimples  a- 
creeping  up  my  arms.  "I'm  used  to  forward  children.  In 
our  parts  they  slap  them  with  a  slipper,  if  nothing  else  is 
handy." 

"  A  slipper  ;  the  idea  !  "  snapped  that  child. 

I  didn't  seem  to  mind  her,  but  went  on  talking  to  her 
mother. 

"  But  here,  in  York,  the  most  careful  mothers  wear  button 
boots,  and  keep  special  help  to  put  them  on  and  off,  so  the 
poor  little  wretches  have  no  check  on  their  impudence." 

a  Mamma,"  snapped  the  creature,  "  I  won't  stand  this ;  I 
won't  stay  in  the  same  room  with  that  hateful  old  maid.  I 
hope  she  will  go  to  Washington  and  be  smashed  up  in  ten 
thousand  railroads.  That's  the  idea  !  " 

With  this  the  spiteful  thing  walked  out  of  the  room  with 
her  head  thrown  back,  and  her  nose  in  the  air. 

"  Let  her  go,"  says  E.  E.,  sinking  back  on  her  couch  as  red 
as  fire.  ft  The  child  has  got  her  share  of  the  old  Frost  tem 
per.  Now  let  us  talk  about  Washington.  Do  you  mean  to  go 
incog,  f  " 

"  Incog  !  Oh,  no,"  says  I,  beginning  to  cool  down.  "  We 
mean  to  go  in  the  railroad  cars." 

Another  glow  of  fun  came  into  Cousin  E.  E.'s  eyes — she 
really  is  a  good-natured  creature  ;  some  people  might  have  got 
mad  about  what  I  said  to  that  child,  but  she  didn't  seem  to 
care,  for  the  laugh  all  came  back  to  her  eyes. 

"  Of  course,"  says  she,  "  but  do  you  mean  to  go  in  your 
own  character  ?  " 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  don't  people  take  their  characters  with 
them  when  they  go  to  Washington  ?  " 


1 52  In  Washington. 

"  They  sometimes  leave  them  there,"  says  she,  laughing, 
"  but  this  is  what  I  mean ;  if  I  were  you  I'd  take  this  trip 
quietly,  and  look  about  a  little  without  letting  people  know 
how  great  a  genius  they  had  among  them.  By  and  by  we  will 
all  go  and  take  the  city  by  storm." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I,  delighted  with  the  plan,  which  has  a 
touch  of  diplomacy  in  it — and  I  am  anxious  to  study  diplom 
acy  under  the  circumstances,  you.  know ;  <f  creep  before  you 
walk — that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  Jusfc  pass  as  Miss  Frost — nothing  more — and  make  your 
own  observations,"  says  E.  E. 

"  I  will,"  says  I.  "  It's  a  good  idea.  I  don't  think  the 
people  in  Washington  were  over  polite  to  my  great  Grand 
Duke,  and  I  mean  to  pay  them  off,  some  day." 

"  That's  settled,"  says  E.  E.  "  Now  you  have  no  more  than 
time  to  get  ready. " 


XXXIV. 

IN   WASHINGTON. 

HURRIED  back  to  my  boarding-house,  packed  up 
that  pink  silk   dress  and  things,  put  on  my  alpaca 
dress,  tied  a  thick  brown  veil  over  my  beehive,  and 
packed  my  satchel  till  it  rounded  out  like  an  apple  dumpling. 

We  started  that  night.  Cousin  D.  wanted  me  to  go  into  a 
long  car  where  people  slept,  he  said ;  but  I  saw  a  good  many 
men  with  carpet-bags  going  in  there,  which  looked  strange,  and 
though  I  have  great  faith  in  the  integrity  of  Cousin  Dempster, 
a  young  lady  in  my  peculiar  circumstances  cannot  be  too  par 
ticular  ;  I  declined  to  go  into  that  curtained,  long  car,  and  sat 
up  in  a  high-backed  chair  all  night,  wide  awake  as  a  whip-poor- 
will,  for  Cousin  Dempster  was  on  the  next  seat  sleeping  like  a 
mole,  and  his  head  more  than  once  came  down  so  close  to  my 


In  Washington.  153 

shoulder  that  it  made  me  shudder  for  fear  that  people  might 
not  know  that  he  was  my  cousin's  husband,  and  snap  up  my 
character  before  I  got  to  Washington. 

Well,  at  last  we  got  out  of  that  train,  I  stood  with  both  feet 
in  the  heart  of  the  nation,  and  a  great,  flat,  straggling  heart  it  is. 

"  There  it  is — there  is  the  Capitol,"  says  Cousin  Dempster. 
"  Look  how  beautifully  the  sunshine  bathes  the  dome  and  the 
white  marble  walls." 

I  looked  upward — there,  rising  up  over  a  lot  of  tall  trees 
and  long,  green  embankments,  rose  a  great  building,  white  as 
snow,  and  large  as  all  out-doors.  The  sun  was  just  up,  and  had 
set  all  its  windows  on  fire,  and  a  great,  stout  woman  perched 
on  the  top  of  a  thing  they  call  the  dome — which  is  like  a  mam 
moth  wash-bowl  turned  wrong  side  up — looked  as  if  she  was 
tired  out  with  carrying  so  much  on  her  head,  and  longed  to  jump 
down  and  have  a  good  time  with  the  other  bronze-colored  girls 
that  show  themselves  off,  just  like  white  folks  inside  the 
building. 

Well,  later  that  day,  1  went  right  up  to  that  heap  of  marble, 
which  in  its  length  and  breadth  and  depth  filled  my  soul  with 
pride  and  patriotic  glory.  I  really  don't  believe  there  is 
another  building  like  it  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Freedom, 
honesty,  and  greatness  ought  to  preside  there. 

Why,  sisters,  there  are  whole  rooms  here  of  clouded  marble, 
ceiling,  floor,  walls — everything  polished  like  the  agate  stone 
in  your  brooch,  and  I  do  think  that  the  hottest  sun  can  hardly 
force  a  beam  of  warmth  through. 

Down  in  the  great  wandering  cellars  you  come  upon  stair 
cases  of  beautiful  marble,  fenced  in  with  railings  of  iron  and 
gold  and  brass  all  melted  together  and  called  bronze,  up  which 
deer,  as  big  as  young  lambs,  are  jumping,  and  branches  of  trees 
are  twisted.  There  are  ever  so  many  of  these  staircases,  and 
they  cost  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  apiece.  Think  of  that ! 
and  mostly  where  it  is  so  dark  that  you  can't  but  just  see 
them. 

"  I  hadn't  o,nly  one  day  and  night  to  look  about  in,  so  I  went 
7* 


154  In  Washington. 

up  there  before  Congress  got  to  work,  as  I  wanted  to  see  things 
without  having  people  know  that  I  was  there.  But  by  and  by 
a  lot  of  men  came  swarming  in,  and  I  felt  like  making  myself 
scarce. 

I  went  back  to  the  hotel  and  got  a  little  sleep. 

It  was  dinner  time,  and  near  candle-light  when  I  woke  up ; 
and  when  we  got  through  dinner,  Cousin  D.  told  me  to  hurry 
up,  and  we  would  take  a  look  at  the  White  House. 

"  Shall  I  get  out  my  pink  silk  ?  "  says  I.  "  Does  the  Presi 
dent  expect  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  says  he ;  "  no  one  is  aware  that  we  are  here. 
"We  will  drive  to  the  White  House,  see  all  that  is  to  be  seen, 
and  start  home  bright  and  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Then  the  alpaca  will  do,"  says  I. 

"  Of  course,"  says  he  ;  "  anything." 

I  wasn't  sorry.  This  travelling  all  night  is  apt  to  take  the 
ambition  out  of  the  most  energetic  character.  The  difference 
between  pink  silk  and  alpaca  was  nothing  to  me  now. 

Well,  in  an  hour  after,  the  carriage  we  rode  in  stopped  under 
a  great  square  roof,  set  on  marble  pillars,  which  spreads  out 
from  the  steps  of  the  White  House  to  keep  people  sheltered 
from  the  storm  and  sun  when  they  get  out  of  the  carriages. 
It  was  dark  now,  and  two  great  street-lamps  were  in  brilliant 
combustion  each  side  of  the  steps. 

Between  us,  sisters,  that  White  House  that  we  hear  so  much 
about  is  no  great  shakes  of  a  building.  Compared  to  the  Capi 
tol,  it  is  just  nowhere. 

Cousin  D.  rang  the  knob,  which  was  silver,  and  a  man  opened 
the  door. 

"  We  should  like  to  see  the  House,"  says  Cousin  D. 

"  Certainly,"  says  the  man.     "  Walk  in." 

We  did  walk  into  a  large  room,  with  a  few  chairs  and  two 
or  three  pictures  in  it ;  nothing  particular,  I  can  tell  you. 

"  This  way,"  says  the  man. 

We  went  that  way,  into  a  great  room,  long  and  wide  as  a 
meeting-house,  choke  full  of  long  windows,  and  with  three 


In  Washington.  155 

awful  large  glass  balloons,  blazing  with  lights,  a-hanging  from 
the  roof. 

The  carpet  was  thick  and  soft  as  a  sandy  shore,  and  had  its 
colors  all  trampled  in  together,  as  if  some  one  had  stamped  down 
the  leaves  of  a  maple  camp  into  the  grass  as  they  fell  last  year. 

"  The  chairs  and  sofas  and  looking-glasses  were  bought  when 
General  Washington  was  President,"  says  the  man. 

"  Mercy  on  me  !  you  don't'  say  so,"  says  I.  "  They  look 
rather  skimpy  for  these  times,  don't  they?"  says  I;  but  then 
his  way  of  buying  things  and  spending  money  was  a  little 
skimpy  compared  to  the  way  Presidents  spend  money  now ; 
but,  of  course,  we  grow  more  deserving  as  we  grow  older. 
"  Now,  those  red  silk  curtains  that  almost  hide  the  lace  ones, 
did  they  belong  to  Washington  ?  " 

"Them?     Oh,  no;  we  change  them  every  four  years." 

"  Then  they  go  out  with  the  President,"  says  I. 

"  We  don't  think  that  he  will  go  out  yet  awhile,"  says  the 
man,  looking  a  little  wrathy. 

"  Well,  I  hope  he  won't,  for  great  men  are  scarce  in  these 
times,"  says  I,  wanting  to  mollify  him.  He  said  nothing,  and 
I  followed  him  through  a  door  into  a  smaller  room,  so  full  of 
green  that  it  seemed  like  stepping  out  of  a  blazing  sun  into  a 
fern  hollow.  The  walk  were  green ;  the  carpet  was  green  as 
meadow  grass ;  the  sofas  and  chairs  were  cushioned  with  green 
satin.  The  glass  balloon  seemed  to  have  a  sea-green  tinge  in. 
it,  though  it  was  blazing  like  a  bonfire. 

Not  a  soul  was  in  the  room,  and  we  went  on  to  the  next 
which  was  long,  rounded  off  at  the  ends  like  a  lemon,  and  blue 
as  the  sky.  Down  the  tall  windows  came  curtains  of  blue 
silk,  sweeping  over  white  lace.  The  chairs  seemed  framed  in 
solid  gold  ;  their  cushions  were  blue  silk. 

"  This  is  the  celebrated  blue  room,"  says  the  man. 

f ( I've  heard  about  it,"  says  I. 

"  And  this,"  says  he,  "  is  the  red  room.  The  President  has 
given  a  dinner-party  to  General  Sickles  this  evening,  and  they 
are  now  at  the  table.  Would  you  like  to  look  in  ?  " 


156  In  Washington. 

Before  I  could  answer,  we  were  standing  in  the  red  room, 
and  looking  through  at  a  table  crowded  round  with  gentlemen 
and  ladies,  dressed  like  queens  and  princes,  some  of  them  look 
ing  handsome  as  angels. 

"  That  is  General  Sickles,"  says  he,  "  a-sitting  by  Mr.  Grant." 

I  looked  in,  but  could  only  see  a  face,  not  over  young,  turned 
towards  a  lady  who  was  listening  to  him,  as  if  every  word  he 
dropped  was  a  ripe  cherry.  She  had  a  good,  honest  face,  and 
I  lilted  her. 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Sickles,  sitting  by  the  President,"  says  the 
man. 

"  What,  that  girl !  you  don't  say  so.  Why,  he  might  be  her 
father." 

It  was  the  truth — a  young,  black-eyed  thing,  rather  pretty 
and  childish,  sat  there  by  General  Grant — I  knew  it  was  Grant 
by  his  features — talking  to  him  as  if  he  had  been  her  brother. 
Her  dress  was  high  up  in  the  neck,  but  most  of  the  ladies 
there  wore  them  so  low  that  I  felt  like  turning  my  eyes  away ; 
but  Cousin  D.  says  that  low-necked  dresses  always  rage  as  a 
chronic  epidemic  in  Washington,  so  I  mustn't  be  surprised. 

"  That  is  General  Sheridan,"  says  the  man. 

"  That  little  cast-iron  image,  General  Sheridan !  "  says  I, 
a-starting  back.  "  The  fellow  that  cured  a  whole  tribe  of  Indian 
women  of  small-pox  with  bayonets  and  bullets !  I  don't  want 
to  see  anything  more  !  Just  let  us  go  away,  cousin ;  I  haven't 
been  vaccinated,  and  he  might  break  out  again." 

"Hush !  hush  !  he  isn't  dangerous,"  says  Cousin  D. 

"  Dangerous !  "  says  I,  "just  ask  the  Governor  of  Illinois. 
Wasn't  it  General  Sheridan  who  dragged  off  the  Grand  Duke 
among  the  Indians  and  buffaloes  ?  I  tell  you  again  I  won't 
stay  another  minute  in  the  house  with  that  man  ! " 

Sisters,  I  kept  my  word.     We  departed  at  once. 


Getting  Information.  157 


XXXV. 

GETTING  INFORMATION; 

|Y  DEAR  SISTERS :  -I  made  what  people  here  call 
a  flying  visit  to  Washington,  which  means,  I  suppose, 
that  the  railroad  cars  go  about  as  swift  as  a  bird  flies, 
which  they  do,  if  one  is  allowed  to  choose  the  bird — a  white  ban 
tam,  for  instance,  with  clipped  wings.  Well,  I  really  don't 
know  much  about  the  speed,  only  I  was  awful  tired  when  we  got 
out  of  the  cars  at  Jersey  City,  and  we  had  the  lonesomest  drive 
home  just  bpfore  daylight  that  two  tired  mortals  ever  undertook. 
The  whole  city  was  still  as  a  graveyard,  and  put  one  in  mind 
of  those  cities  over  the  sea,  dug  out  of  the  ashes  in  which  they 
have  been  buried  hundreds  on  hundreds  of  years. 

To  me,  sisters,  nothing  is  more  dreary  than  a  great  city  shut 
up  and  full  of  sleeping  people.  Only  think  of  it !  half  a  mil 
lion  of  human  beings  all  lying  in  darkness,  unconscious  of 
both  happiness  or  misery,  just  as  if  sleeping  in  their  tombs, 
only  that  the  first  glow  of  sunshine  brings  them  to  life  again. 
Did  you  ever  think  of  it  ? 

Now,  in  the  country  the  stillness  is  not  so  mournful — there 
is  a  sense  of  out-door  freedom  there.  The  leaves  stir  with  life 
on  the  trees.  The  brooks  murmur  and  gurgle  and  laugh  by 
night  as  they  do  by  day.  The  birds  flutter  now  and  then,  and 
the  winds  whistle  and  whisper,  filling  the  night  with  a  stir  of 
life.  But  here — here  in  a  great  city,  a  ghost-like  policeman, 
or  a  poor  straggling  wretch  who  has  no  home  but  the  street,  is 
all  that  you  see.  Indeed,  coming  home  before  daybreak  isn't 
a  thing  I  hanker  to  do  over  again. 

Well,  after  pulling  at  the  bell-knob  till  I'm  afraid  Cousin 
Dempster  swore  internally,  we  got  into  the  house,  and  had  a 
good  long  sleep  before  breakfast. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  "  for  the 
Liederkranz  comes  off  to-night,  and  I  was  afraid  we  should 
lose  it.  Of  course  you'll  go,  Cousin  Frost  ?  " 


158  Getting  Information. 

"Well,"  says  I,  "perhaps  I  can  tell  better  when  I  know 
what  the  thing  is.  It's  a  Grabbled  sort  of  a  word,  that  might 
belong  to  an  aligator  or  kangaroo  ;  and  I  don't  care  overmuch 
for  wild-beast  shows,  any  way."  Cousin  E.  E.  laughed. 

"  Well,"  says  she,  "  in  some  sense  you  are  right.  There 
will  be  a  show  of  wild  animals  such  as  never  roamed  in  field 
or  forest,  but  none  of  them  are  dangerous  j  at  any  rate,  in 
that  form." 

"  Are  they  in  a  circus,  and  is  there  a  clown  with  a  chalky 
face  and  red  patches  ?  "  says  I. 

"  The  circus !  "  says  she,  a-holding  up  both  hands.  "  Why, 
it  is  to  be  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  and  the  first  people  in 
the  city  are  going." 

"  To  see  them  feed  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Well,  that  may  be  a  part  of  it,  but  the  principal  thing  is 
the  parade." 

"  But  where  do  they  feed  the  animals — not  in  the  boxes 
with  red  velvet  cushions,  I  calculate  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  funny  you  are !  Of  course  not ;  the  supper  is 
set  out  in  Nilsson  Hall,  and  is  served  a  la  carte." 

"  What !  "  says  I ;  "do  they  bring  in  fodder  by  the  cartload 
for  the  creatures  ?  Now,  really,  Cousin  E.  E.,  there  is  nothing 
astonishing  about  that  to  a  person  born  and  bred  in  the 
country.  You  and  I  have  ridden  on  a  load  of  hay,  piled  up 
so  high  that  we  had  to  bend  down  our  heads  to  keep  from 
bumping  them  against  the  top  of  the  barn  door,  when  the  hay 
went  in  to  be  put  on  the  mow ;  so  we  need  not  see  the  same 
thing  meached  over  here  in  York." 

"Dear  me!"  said  my  cousin;  <c  you  are  just  the  brightest 
and  stupidest  woman " 

"  Young  lady,  if  you  please,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  young  lady — that  I  ever  set  eyes  on — can't  you  com 
prehend  that  it  is  a  ball  we  are  speaking  of?" 

"  A  ball  ?  "  says  I ;  "  then  what  did  you  call  it  a  Liederkranz 
for?" 

"  The  Liederkranz  ball.     It's  a  German  word." 


Getting  Information.  159 

"  But  I  don't  speak  Dutch.  How  should  I,  not  being  an 
old  settler  of  York  Island,"  says  I. 

tf  Well,  never  mind  that.  The  Liederkranz  is  a  masked 
ball." 

"  A  masked  ball !  Now  what  do  you  mean  ?  I've  heard 
of  masked  batteries,  but  they  went  out  with  the  war." 

"  There  it  is  again ;  you  won't  take  time  to  understand," 
says  Cousin  E.  E.,  a-lifting  both  her  hands  in  the  air.  "  This  is 
a  ball  where  people  go  in  character." 

I  arose  at  once,  burning  with  indignation. 

''Cousin  E.  E.,"  says  I,  "  do  you  mean  to  insult  me? 
What  have  you  seen  in  my  conduct  to  lead  you  into  supposing 
that  I  would  go  to  any  ball  that  was  out  of  character  ?  " 

"  Do  sit  down,"  says  she. 

"  Not  in  this  house,"  says  I.  "  It  isn't  my  own  dignity 
alone  that  I  have  got  to  maintain,  but  the  whole  Society  of 
Infinite  Progress  is  represented  in  my  humble  person." 

"But  you  are  mistaken.  Was  ever  anything  so  absurd! 
Do  speak  to  her,  Mr.  Dempster.  You  know  how  far  it  is 
from  my  mind  to  give  offence  to  Cousin  Phoemie." 

Cousin  Dempster,  who  had  been  rubbing  his  hands  and  en 
joying  himself  mightily,  now  smoothed  down  his  face,  and 
spoke. 

"  A  masked  ball,  Cousin  Phoemie,  is  an  entertainment,  you 
understand." 

(l  Just  so,"  says  I. 

"  In  which  each  person  takes  some  character  not  his 
own." 

"  All  slanderers,  are  they  ?  "  says  I. 

"  No,  no ;  they  assume  a  character." 

"  Oh !  "  says  I,  a-drawing  out  a  long  breath ;  K  make  believe 
have  one  ?  " 

"  They  dress  the  character,  and  act  it." 

"  Well  ?  "  says  I,  completely  beat  out. 

"  Some  dress  themselves  up  as  beasts  and  birds." 

"What?" 


160  Getting  Information^ 

11  And  some  as  tame  animals." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

"  The  ladies  put  masks  on  their  faces." 

"  Masks  !  now  what  are  they  ?  " 

<c  Pieces  of  silk,  or  gold  and  silver  cloth,  with  holes  for  the 
eyes,  and  a  fringe  over  the  mouth.  Then  over  the  dress  they 
put  on  a  great  circular  cloak,  with  a  hood  to  it,  and  loose 
sleeves  that  hide  the  shape,  so  that  a  man  don't  know  his  own. 
wife." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  hide-and-seek  ball ;  but  ain't  some  of  the  ladies 
in  danger  of  losing  themselves,"  says  I. 

Cousin  Dempster  laughed,  and  his  wife  turned  red  as 
fire. 

u  People  who  lose  themselves  at  the  Liederkranz,  generally 
get  found  out  in  the  end,"  says  he. 

"  But  I  must  hurry  down  town.  Will  you  go  ?  Everybody 
will  be  there.  It  is  the  place  to  meet  a  prince  in  dis 
guise." 

As  Dempster  uttered  these  words,  my  heart  gave  a  great, 
wild  bound,  and  my  breath  stopped.  What  if  he  were  to  be  at 
the  ball  in  disguise,  seeking  a  safe  and  private  interview. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will  go,"  says  I,  lf  but  I  don't  know  either  ! 
The  mask  and  cloak  !  " 

"  Never  mind  about  them,"  says  E.  E. ;  "I  have  a  couple 
ready,  feeling  sure  that  you  would  go." 

"  Then  it  is  settled,"  says  Dempster,  snatching  up  his  hat. 
"  I  will  be  on  hand.  So  good-morning  !  " 


The  Liederkranz  Ball.  161 

XXXYI. 

THE    LIEDERKRANZ    BALL. 

[EAR,  SISTERS  : — That  night  about  ten  o'clock,  three 
of  the  funniest-looking  people  you  ever  set  eyes  on 
might  have  been  seen  creeping — like  black,  and  pink, 
and  yellow  ghosts — down  Cousin  Dempster's  front  steps. 

I  had  on  a  long  yellow  cloak,  trimmed  with  black  velvet,  that 
just  swept  down  to  my  feet  and  covered  them  up.  Then  over 
my  face  was  a  black  velvet  mask,  with  gold  fringe,  that  swept 
down  to  my  bosom  like  an  old  man's  beard,  and  over  that  my 
hood  was  pulled  so  close  that  not  a  lock  of  my  hair  could  be 
seen. 

Cousin  E.  E.  wore  a  pink  cloak,  trimmed  with  white  swan's- 
down,  and  her  mask  shone  like  silver. 

Dear  sisters,  you  wouldn't  have  known  me  from  the  Queen 
of  Sheba. 

Dempster  was  black  all  over — mask,  cloak,  and  boots.  It 
seemed  as  if  half  a  dozen  funerals  had  been  rolled  into  one,  and 
hung  on  him. 

Well,  we  crowded  into  the  carriage  and  drove  off.  It  seemed 
as  if  we  never  should  get  untangled  from  the  drove  of  carriages 
that  swarmed  around  the  Academy  of  Music,  and  when  we  got 
in,  and  found  ourselves  struggling  with  the  crowd,  we  almost 
wished  ourselves  back  again. 

I  looked  around  everywhere,  as  I  went,  for  that  tall  and 
princely  form ;  but  the  crowd  was  so  thick,  and  the  dresses  so 
queer,  that  it  seemed  next  to  impossible  to  find  out  anything  or 
know  anybody.  The  lights  from  the  great  glass  balloons  poured 
down  rainbows  on  the  crowd,  that  moved  'and  chatted  and 
laughed  till  the  noise  was  confusing  as  the  dresses. 

"  Step  back,  step  back  !  "  says  Cousin  Dempster,  all -at  once, 
t(  the  procession  is  coming." 

We  did  step  back,  and  tried  our  best  to  see  the  procession  ; 


1 62  The  Liederkrans  Ball. 

but  the  floor  was  pretty  much  on  a  level,  and,  though  I  stood 
on  tiptoe,  all  that  I  could  see  was,  now  and  then,  the  head  of 
an  eagle,  or  a  bear,  or  a  giraffe,  rising  above  the  crowd,  while 
the  music  rang  out  in  thunders  of  sweet  sounds,  and  the  people 
swarmed  in  and  out  of  the  little  square  pews  in  the  galleries, 
like  bees  hiving  on  a  hot  summer  day. 

Of  course,  I  knew  well  enough  that  all  this  moving  circus 
was  make-believe,  and  that  every  wild  animal  had  a  man  in  him, 
just  as  every  man  has  the  shadow  of  some  animal  in  his  nature. 
But  I  couldn't  help  stepping  back  and  shuddering  a  little,  when 
a  great  big  lumbering  elephant  rolled  by,  with  his  trunk  curled 
up  in  the  air,  and  almost  trod  on  me. 

"  Oh,  mercy, !  "  says  I,  with  a  little  scream.  a  He's  enough 
to  frighten  one  out  of  a  year's  growth !  " 

<c  Don't  be  terrified,"  says  a  voice  behind  me,  and  I  felt  an 
arm  a-stealing  around  my  waist ;  "  I  am  here  to  protect  you." 

I  looked  up.  My  heart  stopped  beating.  The  stranger  was 
tall,  majestic,  and  the  eyes  that  shone  through  his  mask  were 
blue  as  robin's  eggs.  He  had  on  a  black  cloak,  and  the  mask 
covered  his  whole  face  ;  but  how  could  I  mistake  the  princely 
bend  of  that  head,  the  breadth  of  those  majestic  shoulders. 

He  drew  me  back  from  the  crowd.  I  forgot  Cousin  Demp 
ster,  E.  E.,  and  everything  else,  in  the  ecstacy  of  that  sweet 
surprise. 

"  You  have  forgotten  the  roses,"  he  whispered,  with  a  look 
of  loving  reproach. 

I  felt  for  the  bouquet  Cousin  Dempster  had  given  me — it  was 
gone. 

"  I  must  have  dropped  them  as  I  got  out  of  the  carriage," 
says  I.  "But  when  did  you  come?"  I  added,  in  a  whisper, 
tremulous  with  bliss. 

"  Oh,  I  Came  an  hour  ago,  and  in  the  usual  way,"  was  his 
sweet  answer  ;  "  but,  not  seeing  the  flowers,  I  doubted." 

"Ah!  howl  prayed  that  you  would  grow  weary  of  that 
miserable  buffalo  hunt,  and  return!  "  says  1. 

He  seemed  j  ust  a  little  puzzled,  but  at  last  broke  out : 


The  Liederkranz  Ball.  163 

£{  Oh,  it's  all  a  grotesque  farce.  Why  should  wise  men  turn 
themselves  into  wild  animals,  if  it  is  only  in  sport  ?  I  never 
enjoy  such  parties  for  themselves." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  says  I ;  "  and  more  glad 
that  you  have'  left  off  hunting  with  Phil  Sheridan ;  he  might 
have  led  you  into  some  Indian  camp  filled  with  Modocs,  who 
would  have  shot  you  for  sport." 

"  Sheridan,"  says  he.  "  Oh,  he  doesn't  stay  in  one  placo 
long  enough  to  do  much  harm." 

"  Exactly,"  says  I ;  "  but  he  works  quickly.  Still,  you  are 
here,  safe  and  sound ;  why  should  we  waste  time  over  him  ?  " 

"  True  enough,"  says  he ;  "so  take  my  arm,  and  let  us 
promenade." 

I  took  his  arm,  and  clasping  both  hands  over  it  after  a  fash 
ion  I  have  seen  prevalent  among  young  girls  when  they  walk 
out  with  their  lovers  by  moonlight,  moved  proudly  through 
that  throng — very  proudly — for  I  knew  that  long  cloak  covered 
imperial  greatness  that  would  have  astonished  that  assembly, 
had  they  known  as  much  as  I  fondly  suspected. 

"  Tell  me,"  says  I,  in  a  soft  whisper,  "  did  you  receive  a 
valentine  ?  " 

"Did  I  receive  a  valentine?"  says  he.  "Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  Ah !  "  says  I,  "  do  not  question  me." 

<;  But  I  must.     Tell  me  something  about  it." 

"  It  was  original.     It  was  poetry,"  says  I. 

"  Poetry — and  yours !     How  can  you  doubt  its  effect  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  doubt.     Are  you  not  by  my  side  ?  "  I  whispered. 

He  drew  my  hand  under  his  loose  sleeve,  and  pressed  it 
tenderly — so  tenderly,  that  I  did  not  know  when  the  handker 
chief  it  held  escaped  from  my  grasp  to  his ;  but,  directly  after, 
I  saw  him  thrust  something  white  into  his  bosom.  It  was  my 
very  best  handkerchief,  embroidered  with  my  name  ;  but  I  said 
nothing — how  could  I  ? 

We  walked  on.  The  crowd  swarmed  and  hummed  like  bees 
in  a  clover-field.  Now  and  then  a  great  gray  eagle  flapped  by, 


1 64  The  Liederkranz  Ball. 

or  a  bear  prowled  along ;  but,  after  all,  it  was  a  clumsy  make- 
believe,  and  didn't  scare  anybody  much. 

By  and  by  a  lady  came  along  dressed  just  like  me — yellow  and 
black  all  over.  She  stared  at  me,  and  I  stared  at  her — just  my 
height — just  my  air — modest,  but  queenly.  There  was  a 
trifling  difference — she  wore  a  bunch  of  red  roses  on  her 
bosom. 

After  staring  at  me  awhile,  she  drew  softly  round  to  the 
other  side,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  was  saying  something  to  him,. 
I  can't  tell  you  what  happened  next ;  for  just  then  four  great 
big  gilt  candlesticks  walked  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
began  to  dance,  in  a  way  that  fairly  took  me  off  my  feet.  It 
really  was  too  funny.  The  style  in  which  they  hopped  up  and 
down,  crossed  over,  and  stalked  about,  was  enough  to  make  a 
priest  laugh.  , 

"  Isn't  it  awful  queer  !  "  says  I,  a-turning  to  the  man  who 
had  come  so  far  to  tell  me  of  his  love. 

He  was  gone.  I  stood  there  alone  in  the  crowd,  my  limbs 
shook,  my  heart  sunk  like  lead.  How  had  I  lost  him  ? 

Wild  with  a  sense  of  widowhood,  I  wandered  to  and  fro  over 
that  ball-room.  Many  people  spoke  to  me  ;  some  gentlemen  in 
disguise  wanted  to  walk  with  me ;  but  I  evaded  them  all. 
Some  I  answered  ;  to  some  I  gave  nothing  but  sighs.  At  last 
I  felt  tears  stealing  down  under  my  mask,  my  strength  gave 
way,  I  sat  down  on  a  cushioned  bench  in  a  fit  of  despondency. 
The  cup  of  bliss  had  sparkled  at  my  lips,  and  been  dashed 
aside. 

What  did  I  care  for  the  men  and  women  who  were  whirling, 
talking,  and  dancing  around  me  ! 

"  Cousin,  are  you  almost  ready  to  go  home  ?  " 

It  was  Cousin  Dempster  who  spoke  ;  he  had  been  searching 
for  me  high  and  low,  and  was  shocked  to  find  me  sitting  there 
alone.  I  said  nothing,  but,  like  that  Spartan  boy,  gathered 
the  yellow  waves  of  my  cloak  over  the  vulture  that  knawed  at 
my  poor  heart,  and  followed  my  cousin  out  of  the  crowd — still 
looking  eagerly  for  that  one  noble  figure,  but  looking  in  vain. 


How  Did  the  Papers  Know?  165 


XXXYIT. 

HOW   DID    THE    PAPERS   KNOW? 

|EAR  SISTERS :— Would  you  believe  it?  Cousin 
Dempster  had  hardly  got  down  to  his  business  after 
the  ball,  when  a  telegram — I  think  that  is  the  name  of 
the  thing  that  he  said  came  flying  over  the  wires — called  him 
to  Washington  again.  Cousin  E.  E.  made  up  her  mind  to  go 
with  him  this  time,  and  nothing  would  satisfy  her  Vat  that  I 
must  join  in  and  cut  a  dash  with  them.  After  the  strange 
way  in  which  that  majestic  man  in  the  black  cloak  had  gone  off 
with  the  yellowhammer  of  a  female,  I  had  felt  so  down  in  the 
mouth  that  nothing  seemed  to  pacify  me.  If  it  really  was  the 
great  Grand  Duke,  his  conduct  was  just  abominable.  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  it  of  him ;  taking  off  a  lady's  handkerchief  in  his 
bosom,  and  that  the  best  one  she  had  in  the  world,  and  not 
bringing  it  back  again.  Such  conduct  may  be  imperial,  but  it 
isn't  polite,  that  I  must  say,  though  it  wrings  my  heart  to  find 
fault  writh  him.  If  he  had  brought  it  back  the  next  day,  of 
course  it  would  have  been  different ;  but  he  didn't,  and  there  I 
sat  and  sat,  waiting  like  patience  on  a — on  a  stone  wall,  smiling, 
but  wanting  to  cry  all  the  time. 

"  It'll  do  you  good,  and  cheer  you  up, "  says  Cousin  E.  E. 

"  Maybe  it  will,"  says  I,  drawing  a  heavy  breath,  "  but  I 
don't  seem  to  expect  much.  February  is  gone,  and  no  answer 
to—" 

I  bit  my  tongue,  and  cut  off  what  it  was  going  to  say  about 
that  valentine,  for  that  was  a  secret  breathed  only  to  you,  as  a 
Society,  in  the  strictest  confidence. 

"  This  time,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  "  there  shall  be  no  secrecy. 
The  whole  world  shall  know  that  the  rising  genius  of  the  age  is 
with  us.  The  day  we  start,  all  the  morning  papers  will  an 
nounce  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dempster,  of ,  have  gone  to 

Washington,  accompanied  by  that  celebrated  authoress,  Miss 


1 66  How  Did  the  Papers  Know? 

Phoemie  Frost,  who  cannot  fail  to  meet  with  every  attention 
from  the  statesmen  and  high  fashion  of  the  Capital." 

"  But  how  are  the  papers  going  to  know  ?  "  says  I. 

E.  E.  laughed. 

"  Oh,  Dempster  will  manage  that ;  he's  hand-and-glove  with 
ever  so  many  city  editors,"  says  she. 

"Oh!  "  says  I. 

"  There  are  some  things  that  even  genius  itself  don't  know- 
how  to  manage,"  says  E.  E.,  nodding  her  head,  and  smiling  sly 
ly  ;  "but  they  can  be  done.  As  soon  as  we  get  to  Washington, 
all  the  papers  there  will  catch  fire  from  New  York,  and  the 
Senate  will  get  up  another  committee,  and  vote  you  a  seat  in  the 
diplomatic  gallery  by  ballot.  We'll  break  right  into  the  Japan 
ese  furore,  and  carry  off  the  palm,"  says  she,  kindling  up  like  a 
heap  of  pine  shavings  when  a  match  touches  it. 
,  I  began  to  feel  the  proud  Frosty  blood  melting  in  my  bosom. 

"  The  woman  who  writes  is  more  than  equal  to  the  man  who 
votes,"  says  she. 

"  There  is  no  comparison,"  says  I.  "  Women  are  women  and 
men  are  men — nobody  thinks  of  comparing  rose-bushes  and 
oak-trees — one  makes  timber  and  the  other  perfume  j  we 
shelter  the  roses,  and  let  the  oaks  battle  for  themselves.  So  it 
ought  to  be  with  men  and  women — " 

Cousin  E.  E.  cut  me  short. 

4<  That  is  beautifully  expressed,"  says  she,  "  but  save  it  for 
one  of  your  reports  or  literary  conversations ;  my  head  is  full  of 
Washington." 

"  And  my  heart  is  full  of  sadness,"  says  I,  beginning  to  droop 
again. 

"  Nonsense,  you  will  be  happy  as  a  bird  when  we  once  get  a- 
going,"  says  she. 

Cousin  E.  E.  isn't  a  woman  of  great  depth,  but  she  knows  a 
thing  or  two  about  fashionable  life. 

The  York  papers  did  announce  to  the  .world  that  a  dis 
tinguished  party  had  gone  on  to  the  seat  of  government,  and, 
singular  enough,  it  was  done  exactly  in  E.  E.'s  own  words — a 


How  Did  the  Papers  Know?  167 

circumstance  tliat  rather  puzzled  me.  "What  was  more — the 
very  day  we  got  to  Washington  all  the  papers  there  did  the 
same  thing,  which  set  us  at  the  top  of  the  heap  at  once. 

I  hadn't  the  least  idea  of  interfering  with  the  Japanese  that 
came  to  us  from  California,  and  in  that  way  seem  to  be  turning 
the  world  the  other  side  about  from  what  it  used  to  be ;  but 
when  genius  takes  the  bit  between  its  teeth,  it's  apt  to  scatter 
things  right  and  left.  I  suppose  it  was  the  newspapers  did  it, 
but  I  hadn't  been  a  day  at  the  hotel  when  a  letter  come  to  us 
from  the  President's  mansion,  which  invited  us  to  come  to  the 
White  House  and  see  the  Japanese  presentation — in  full  dress. 

I  declare  I  felt  myself  blushing  all  over  when  I  read  that. 
Did  any  one  suppose  that  we  were  a-coming  to  meet  those  out 
side  potentates  half  dressed?  Some  of  them,  perhaps,  un 
married  men. 

"  The  idea !  "  as  that  child  would  say.  I  showed  the  card  to 
Cousin  E.  E.,  who  seemed  to  think  it  all  right,  so  I  said 
nothing,  though  the  whole  thing  had  riled  me  so  it  seemed  as  if 
I  never  should  stop  blushing. 

"  What  does  it  mean,"  says  I. 

"  We  must  go,  Dick  or  Lottie,"  says  she. 

"  Go — how  ?  "  says  I.  "  Haven't  they  got  horses  and  car 
riages  in  this  great  city,  that  we  must  go  in  an  outlandish 
thing  like  that?" 

Here  E.  E.  broke  into  one  of  her  aggravating  titters ;  but 
when  I  gave  her  a  look  she  choked  off,  and  says  she  : 

"  It  means  low  necks  and  short  sleeves." 

"  Low  necks  and  short  sleeves !  Why  didn't  they  say  so, 
then  ?  What  has  any  Dick  or  Lottie  got  to  do  with  it  ?  But 
it's  no  use ;  I  won't  wear  anything  of  the  kind.  Those  who 
want  to  have  a  shoulder-strap  for  a  sleeve,  and  their  dresses  too 
short  at  one  end  and  too  long  at  the  other,  can;  I  won't — 
there!" 

"  Oh !  you  are  privileged  ;  genius  always  is,"  says  E.  E. 

"  That  is,  genius  is  privileged  to  be  decent  in  Washington. 
Well,  I'm  glad  of  that,"  says  I.  "Some  young  ladies  may 


1 68  Reception  of  the  Japanese. 

like  to  go    about  with   bare   arms   and  shoulders — let   them. 
I  wont!" 


XXXVIII. 

RECEPTION   OF    THE   JAPANESE. 

JELL,  SISTERS,  that  afternoon  the  distinguished  party 
mentioned  in  the  papers  got  out  of  a  carriage,  under 
that  square  roof  in  front  of  the  White  House  steps, 
and  walked  with  slow,  stately  steps  into  the  ante-room*  that 
I  told  you  of.  One  of  them — a  tall,  imperial-looking  per 
son — was  robed  in  a  flowing  pink  silk,  just  a  little  open  at 
the  throat,  where  it  was  finished  off  with  white  lace  with  a 
snow-flake  figure  on  it.  A  long  curl  fell  down  this  lady's 
left  shoulder,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  frizzing  about  the 
lofty  forehead,  and  any  amount  of  puffs  back  of  that. 

The  other  lady — who  naturally  kept  a  little  in  the  back 
ground — wore  white  satin,  cut  to  order  about  the  neck  and 
shoulders,  and  a  lot  of  white  stones  on  her  bosom  and  in  her 
hair,  that  shone  like  fire  in  a  dark  night. 

The  man  at  the  door  seemed  to  know  us,  for  he  said,  "  If  it's 
Miss  P.  Frost  and  her  friends,  walk  this  way." 

We  did  walk  that  way,  and  drew  up  in  that  lemon-shaped 
room,  which  is  so  blue  and  white  that  you  seem  to  think  your 
self  in  the  clouds  when  you  go  in.  Right  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  is  a  great  big  round  ring  of  seats,  cushioned  all  over  with 
blue  silk ;  and  right  up  from  the  middle  of  it  rose  a  splendid 
flower-pot,  crowded  full  of  flowers — white,  pink,  and  all  sorts 
of  colors — with  great  long  green  leaves  a-streaming  over  the 
edges,  and  broad,  white  lilies,  that  seemed  cut  out  of  ragged 
snow,  a-spreading  themselves  among  the  green  leaves. 

A  hive  of  ladies,  all  in  long-trained  dresses,  and  necks  accord 
ing  to  order,  were  sitting  or  standing  or  moving  across  the 


Reception  of  the  Japanese.  169 

room,  looking  as  proud  and  grand  as  peacocks  on  a  sunshiny 
clay.  Among  them  was  the  President's  wife — a  real  nice, 
sociable  lady — who  looked  just  as  she  ought  to  in  a  black  velvet, 
long-trained  dress.  In  fact,  of  all  the  women  in  that  room,  I 
liked  her  the  best,  she  is  so  sweet  and  kind  in  her  manners. 
The  minute  we  came  in  she  turned  round  and  gave  us  a  warm, 
honest  smile,  which  was  about  the  only  downright  honest  thing 
I've  seen  in  Washington,  as  yet. 

((  Miss  Frost,"  says  she,  "  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  and  your 
relations.  My  friend  Senator  Edmunds  has  told  me  about 
you  !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  says  I.  l(  No  one  need  want  a  better  recom 
mendation  than  he  can  give.  We  think  the  world  of  him  in. 
our  State." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  says  she.  "  We  think  a  great  deal 
of  him  too ;  in  fact,  Vermont  honors  herself  in  the  Senate. 
But  you  are  looking  at  the  flowers ;  they  are  all  Japanese,  in 
honor  of  the  Embassy." 

"You  don't  say  so,"  says  I;  "did  the  Japanese  bring  the 
flowers  along  with  them  from  Japan  ?  " 

She  laughed  a  sweet,  good-natured  little  laugh,  and  says  she : 

"  Oh,  no ;  we  raise  them  in  the  hot-houses." 

Just  then  there  was  a  bustle  in  the  ante-room,  and  I  saw  a 
slow  line  of  queer-looking  little  folks  tiling  along  toward  the 
east  room.  Mrs.  Grant  had  turned  to  talk  to  Cousin  E.  E., 
and  I  just  slid  out  into  the  green-room,  and  stood  inside  the 
door  to  see  what  all  the  fuss  was  about. 

Standing  against  the  great  window,  nearly  opposite  to  me,  I 
saw  the  President  of  these  United  States,  with  a  lot  of  men 
around  him  in  black  clothes,  and  farther  on  stood  another  lot 
with  their  coats  all  covered  over  with  gold  and  stars  of  precious 
stones  a-hanging  one  after  another  on  their  bosoms,  and  some 
wore  swords,  and  some  didn't ;  but  I  tell  you  there  was  such  a 
blaze  of  colors  and  flash  of  gold  that  it  seemed  to  light  up  the 
great  long  room  like  sunshine,  which  was  convenient,  for  there 
wasn't  enough  in  the  sky  that  day  to  light  a  family  to  bed. 
8 


I/O  Reception  of  the  Japanese. 

While  I  was  wondering  what  all  this  magnificence  and  glory 
meant,  Cousin  Dempster  happened  to  see  me,  and  came  up  to 
the  door. 

f •  What  on  earth  does  all  that  signify  in  a  free  country,"  says 
I.  "It  looks  like  a  circus.  Do  they  mean  to  ride  in  there  ? 
I  'lon't  see  no  horses  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  their  hoofs  will  spoil 
the  carpet  when  they  come  in.  Are  the  Japanese  people  fond 
of  horses?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that;  the  President  is,"  whispers 
Cousin  Dempster.  <;  But  never  you  mind  that;  he  keeps  'em 
in  his  stables,  and  they're  not  likely  to  come  here." 

"  Then  these  fellows  in  the  gold  coats  will  only  do  rough-and- 
tumble,  I  suppose,"  says  I. 

"  Hush !  "  says  Cousin  D.,  looking  round  to  be  sure  that  no 
one  heard  me.  "  The  rough-and-tumble  has  been  pretty  much 
done  up  in  the  Senate  this  winter." 

«  Oh  !  "  says  I. 

"  There  will  be  a  good  deal  of  it  in  Philadelphia  and  Cincin 
nati,  and  all  over  the  country,  I'm  afraid,  for  I  don't  think 
General  Grant  cares  much  about  that  sort  of  gymnastics." 

"  Jim  what  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Turning  over  and  over  from  one  side  to  the  other !  "  says 
he. 

"  I  think  he's  right,"  says  I.  "  A  circus  can't  be  much 
without  horses  and  hoops,  and  that  fellow  with  the  painted 
face ;  but  why  don't  the  show  begin,  such  as  it  is  ?  What  do 
they  stand  there  for,  looking  lonesome  as  a  cider-press  in 
winter  ?  " 

"  My  dear  cousin,"  says  he,  looking  at  me  sort  of  pitiful, 
"  do  remember  it  is  the  ambassadors  of  all  Europe,  to  say 
nothing  of  South  America,  that  you  are  speaking  of." 

"  Ambassadors,"  says  I ;  f(  so  you  call  them  by  that  name 
here,  do  you  ?  " 

"  They  represent  governments,  kings,  and  queens." 

"I've  seen  that  done  in  the  theatre  beautifully.  You  re 
member  when  we  went  to  see  ( Julius  Caesar,'  who  wanted  to 


The  Japanese.  171 

be  King  of  Rome ;  but  I  didn't  know  as  they  ever  did  such 
high-mightiness  off  on  horseback,  or  through  a  hoop,"  says  I. 

"  But,  Phoemie,  these  men  are  genuine.  For  instance,^  that 
gentleman  with  so  much  red  and  gold  about  him  represents 
Queen  Victoria." 

"What,  in  such  clothes — hat,  coat,  and  all  the  rest?  I 
don't  believe  it,"  says  I.  "  You  won't  impose  upon  me  to  that 
extent." 

"  Not  her  person,"  says  he,  a-getting  out  of  patience,  ft  but 
her  Government." 


XXXIX. 

THE    JAPANESE. 

|ELL,  sisters,  that  minute  there  was  a  commotion  in 
the  room.  Those  who  had  been  leaning  against  the 
wall  stood  up,  and  the  strange-looking  men  Cousin  D. 
called  ambassadors  straightened  up  and  fluttered  a  little,  as 
peacocks  spread  their  feathers  when  the  sun  breaks  out. 

Before  I  could  speak,  in  came  the  highest  cockalorum  among 
the  Japanese,  which  wasn't  very  high  after  all. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  says  I  to  Cousin  D.  "  The  man  out  there 
told  me  the  ladies  must  all  go  into  the  blue  room.  Here  I've 
been  hiding  behind  the  door,  so  as  not  to  be  seen,  and  the  first 
Japanese  stranger  that  comes  in  is  a  female  woman !  Goodness 
gracious !  and  so  are  all  the  rest !  " 

"  No,  no,"  says  Cousin  D.,  "  it's  a  man — they're  all  men." 

"With  those  Dolly  Vardens  on?  "  says  I.  "  Do  you  think 
I  was  brought  up  in  the  woods,  to  take  doves  for  night-hawks  ?  " 

"  It's  the  Japanese  fashion,"  says  he. 

"  For  men  to  dress  in — well,  skirts  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Don't  you  see  that  the  lower  skirt  is  formed 
into  loose  trousers  that  two  or  three  of  'em  wear  ?  " 


172  The  Japanese. 

I  did  look,  and  saw  that  the  black  silk  underskirt  some  of 
these  heathen  Japanese  wore  was  puckered  up  a  little  around 
the  ankles,  just  enough  to  show  off  two  peaked  shoes,  that 
nmst  have  been  lovely  wearing  for  a  foot  that  was  all  great 
toe,  but  awkward  for  one  that  wasn't.  In  fact,  I  began  to  be 
awfully  puzzled  about  the  dress  of  the  first  one  that  came 
along,  for  above  the  skirt  of  purple  silk  was  a  Dolly  Yarden, 
all  but  the  puffing  out,  of  black  silk,  spotted  over  with  white 
needlework.  To  top  off  all,  this  Japanee  wore  the  funniest 
sort  of  a  thing  on  the  head,  like  a  shiny  black  wash-bowl,  with 
a  hole  in  it,  from  which  a  stumpy  black  ball  stuck  up  in  the 
air — about  the  pertest-looking  thing  you  ever  saw.  Around 
the  edge  was  a  white  binding,  all  curlicued  off  with  queer 
black  figures,  and  a  lot  of  stiff  black  stuff  streamed  down  from 
behind,  like  a  crow's  tail. 

This  dress  was  tied  round  the  waist  with  a  silk  scarf,  and  to 
that  hung  a  long,  black  sword,  sideways,  with  the  point  stick 
ing  out  behind,  furious  as  could  be. 

Only  two  of  the  Japanese  were  dressed  in  these  frocks,  fig 
ured  off  with  white,  with  purple — well — skirts,  under.  Three 
others  had  thin  purple — well — skirts,  puckered  up  into  baggy 
trousers,  which  showed  off  their  peaked,  hawk-bill  shoes  beau 
tifully.  These  five  high  Japanese  came  marching  one  after 
another — Indian  file — looking  as  solemn  as  eight-day  clocks. 
Then  came  five  more  with  black  Dolly's,  bound  with  purple, 
and  with  purple  figures  worked  on  the  backs,  and  the  under 
skirts  puckered  up  into  trousers.  Every  one  of  them  had 
swords,  and  they  all  marched  straight  up  to  the  President  with 
them  dangling  by  their  sides. 

"  There,  do  you  see  that,"  whispered  Cousin  Dempster. 
"  Are  you  satisfied  now  ?  Women  do  not,  as  a  general  thing, 
wear  swords." 

"  They  may  be  strong-minded,"  says  I. 

Before  Cousin  Dempster  had  time  to  speak,  the  little  Jap 
anee  that  they  called  Iwakura  had  got  right  before  the  Presi 
dent.  There  he  made  a  low  bow,  and,  as  if  jerked  by  the  same 


The  Japanese.  173 

string,  the  whole  row,  one  behind  the  other,  bowed  to  each 
other's  backs.  Then  Mr.  Fish,  a  tall,  fine-looking  gentleman, 
they  called  Secretary  of  State,  came  forward  and  introduced 
the  head  Japanee  to  the  President.  Then  came  another  bow, 
and  another,  and  another,  till  the  whole  ten  got  into  a  row 
near  the  President.  Then  General  Grant  and  Japanee  Iwakura 
made  beautiful  speeches  at  each  other.  Then  there  came  more 
bows — low,  slow,  and .  delightfully  graceful — and  then  I  gath 
ered  up  the  skirt  of  my  pink  silk  and  fled,  like  a  bird,  into 
the  blue  room,  where  the  ladies  were  waiting  like  pigeons  anx 
ious  for  corn. 

After  all,  I  think  those  Japanese  must  have  been  men.  The 
ladies  got  into  such  a  flutter  as  they  came  in,  and  took  so 
much  pains  to  make  themselves  agreeable,  which  it  isn't  likely 
they  would  have  done  if  those  scull  caps  and  swords  hadn't 
meant  something  masculine.  Then  there  was  more  low  bows, 
and  we  ladies  swept  back  our  trains,  took  steps  and  curtsied 
just  as  easy  and  graceful  as  they  did,  and  Mrs.  Grant  talked  a 
little  with  a  Japanee.  He  told  what  she  said  to  the  others, 
and  what  she  did  say  was  just  sweet  and  natural,  which  was 
a  proof  that  she  didn't  consider  the  Japanese  as  strong-minded 
females  in  the  least.  So  after  we  came  out  I  told  Cousin 
Dempster  that  I  was  satisfied  that  they  were  as  great  men  as 
little  fellows,  five  feet  and  under,  could  be,  and  I  asked  him, 
in  confidence,  if  any  of  them  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  un 
married  ? 


174  That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party. 


XL. 

THAT   DIPLOMATIC    STAG   PARTY. 

|T  is  wonderful,  dear  sisters,  how  one  thing  grows  out 
of  another  in  this  world.  When  it  got  about  that  I 
had  been  invited  to  help  the  Mrs.  President  to  enter 
tain  the  Japanese  dignitaries,  every  lady  in  Washington  that 
was  going  to  give  a  party  sent  me  and  my  Cousin  Dempster 
an  invite,  till  we  began  to  think  no  more  of  square  letters, 
with  monographs  on  them,  than  you  care  for  chestnut  burrs 
when  the  nuts  have  dropped  out. 

But  there  was  one  of  these  documents  that  we  rather  jumped 
at,  because  it  came  from  a  man  that  was  almost  as  good  as 
born  in  Vermont.  Maine  is,  after  all,  something  of  a  New 
England  State,  and  Mr.  Brooks,  member  of  Congress  from 
New  York,  the  man  I  spoke  of,  came  from  there,  and  had  a 
seat  in  the  Legislature  of  that  State  when  he  was  only  just  of 
age.  So  we  all  rather  took  to  him,  as  New  England  people 
will  take  to  each  other  when  they  scatter  off  into  other  States, 
and  do  honor  to  the  one  they  come  from. 

The  minute  his  square  document  came,  Cousin  Dempster 
said  at  once  that  he  would  accept,  and  I,  who  had  done  honors 
with  Mrs.  President,  made  up  my  mind  there,  right  on  the 
nail,  to  do  just  as  much  for  the  Brooks  family. 

Well,  I  never  took  off  my  pink  silk  after  we  came  from  the 
White  House,  only  bunched  it  up  a  little  more  behind  when 
we  went  down  to  dinner,  and  after  that  screwed  up  my  hair 
for  a  new  friz,  while  I  took  a  nap  in  the  great  puffy  easy-chair 
that  stood  in  my  room ;  for  this  doing  honors  hour  after  hour 
is  tiresome  to  the — well — ankles. 

Having  my  dress  on,  I  took  something  of  a  nap,  and  seemed 
to  be  dragged  out  of  my  sleep  by  the  hair,  when  E.  E.  came  to 
call  me,  which  was,  maybe,  owing  to  the  tightness  of  the 
crimping  wires  that  caught  on  the  cushion  when  I  jumped  up, 


That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party.  175 

and  gave  me  an  awful  jerk.  But  I  soon  got  over  that,  and 
gave  iny  hair  an  extra  frizzle  before  I  went  out,  which  was 
improving  to  my  general  appearance,  and  very  relieving  to  the 
head. 

Cousin  E.  E.  had  put  on  a  span-new  dress,  observing,  mod 
estly,  that  a  genius  could  appear  in  anything,  but  she  hadn't 
the  position  which  would  stand  wearing  the  same  dress  twice. 

''  For  the  sake  of  New  England,"  says  she,  "  I  mean  to  do 
my  best,"  which  she  did,  in  silk,  like  a  ripe  cherry,  with  wave 
over  wave  of  black  lace  over  it,  and  a  bunch  of  white  stones 
on  her  bosom,  burning  like  a  furnace  when  the  light  struck 
them. 

Well,  once  again  we  packed  ourselves  into  a  carriage,  and 
then,  huddled  up  in  waves  of  red  silk,  rolled  off  to  Mr. 
Brooks's  house,  which  isn't  far  from  the  President's  home 
stead. 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  many  here  yet,"  says  I,  as  we  got 
out  of  the  carriage,  and  went  up  the  high  steps,  holding  our 
dresses  with  both  hands. 

Before  Cousin  D.  could  answer,  the  door  was  opened,  and 
the  man  inside  waved  his  hand,  which  had  a  span-clean  white 
glove  on  it,  and  told  us  to  walk  upstairs,  which  we  did,  drop 
ping  our  dresses  as  we  went,  till  they  trailed  half  way  down 
the  steps  in  waves  that  the  fellow  with  white  gloves  on  must 
have  thought  sumptuous. 

Two  or  three  young  ladies  were  in  the  dressing-room,  and 
that  was  all.  I  shook  out  my  dress  before  the  glass,  gave  my 
hair  an  extra  fluff,  and  went  into  the  hall,  where  Cousin 
Dempster  was  standing. 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  many  ladies  here,"  says  I ;  "in  fact, 
none  to  speak  of." 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  "  they're  not  expected.  You  and  my  wife 
are  exceptions." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I. 

"  This  is  a  stag  party,"  says  he. 

"A  what?" 


176  That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party. 

"  A  stag  party,  where  ladies  sometimes  manage  to  see  and 
listen.  You  will  have  a  chance  from  the  back  windows,  I 
dare  say ;  only  sit  low  and  keep  still,  the  flags  will  conceal  you." 

"  Oh !  it's  a  stag  party  at  the  table,  and  crouching  dears  all 
around,"  says  I,  "  is  it?  " 

Cousin  Dempster  laughed  till  he  nearly  choked. 

"  That's  capital,"  says  he.  "  You  are  getting  too  bright  for 
anything." 

I  couldn't  quite  make  out  what  I'd  said  that  set  him  off  so, 
but  I  suppose  he  did,  for  he  kept  on  laughing  all  the  way  down 
stairs,  and  the  fun  hadn't  left  his  face  when  he  introduced  me 
to  Mr.  Brooks,  who  was  in  the  room  we  entered,  talking  with 
some  ladies  that  had  come  to  look  on  and  help  his  daughter  to 
talk  to  the  Japanese,  who  don't  understand  a  word  of  English. 

Sisters,  I  really  think  we  New  England  people  ought  to  be 
proud  of  Mr.  Brooks,  for  he's  not  only  tall  and  large,  and  real 
handsome,  but  he's  a  self-made  man,  having  worked  out  his  own 
education  by  the  hardest  toil.  He  edited  a  daily  paper  before 
he  was  twenty  years  old ;  was  a  member  of  the  Maine  legisla- 
lature  when  he  was  twenty-three ;  and  travelled  all  over 
Europe  on  foot  before  he  was  twenty-five.  He  has  been  in 
Congress,  off  and  on,  twelve  years,  besides  travelling  all  round 
the  world  between  whiles,  which  brought  him  hand-and-glove 
with  the  Japanese,  the  heathen  Chinee,  and  all  the  other  out 
landish  people  that  we  send  missionaries  to,  and  convert  a 
dozen  or  so  once  in  fifty  years. 

Well,  Mr.  Brooks  seemed  real  glad  to  see  us,  and  was  polite 
as  could  be ;  so  was  his  daughter  and  all  the  other  ladies,  when 
they  found  out  who  it  was  they  had  among  them.  He'd  been  in 
Vermont,  of  course,  before  going  "round  what  was  left  of  the  world, 
and  his  praise  of  the  Old  Mountain  State  was  something  worth 
hearing.  He  asked  about  Sprucehill,  and  said  that  he  had 
ploasant  reminiscences  of  that  place,  having  kept  a  school  in  one 
just  like  it  in  his  vacations  in  college.  Particularly  he  recol 
lected  a  sugar  camp  where  he  used  to  drink  maple  sap,  and  eat 
sugar  till  it  had  been  a  sweet  remembrance  to  him  all  his  life. 


That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party.  177 

While  we  were  talking  in  this  satisfactory  manner,  the  fellow 
in  gloves  sung  out  a  name  that  got  so  tangled  up  in  his  mouth 
that  it  set  my  teeth  on  edge.  Then  came  another,  and  another 
that  I  didn't  listen  to ;  for  that  minute  I  saw  a  pair  of  peaked 
shoes  coming  through  the  door,  and  above  them  Mr.  Iwakura, 
with,  that  glazed  punch-bowl  on  his  head,  and  his  black  and 
purple  dress  hanging  limp  around  him.  He  bowed  low  and 
softly.  Mr.  Brooks  bowed  back ;  then  this  Japanee  turned  to 
bow  again  and  again,  till  I  began  to  tremble  for  his  neck,  but 
he  went  through  it  all  like  a  man  ;  and  when  the  whole  lot  had 
been  bowed  to,  Mr.  Brooks  introduced  them  to  me  and  the 
other  ladies. 

Mr.  Iwakura  seemed  to  remember  that  he'd  seen  me  a-doing 
honors  at  the  White  House,  for  he  bowed  clear  down  till  I 
thought  his  glazed  punch-bowl  would  fall  off,  and  his  black  veil 
stuck  right  out  straight ;  but  he  rose  again  as  if  his  joints  had 
been  oiled,  and  said  something  that  sounded  soft  as  cream,  and 
sweet  as  maple-sugar,  but  what  it  all  meant  goodness  only 
knows. 

Then  another  heathen  Japanee  stepped  forward,  and  says  he : 

"  The  Embassador  wishes  to  say  he  is  delighted  to  see  a  lady 
author,  who  is  an  honor  to  her  country." 

Here  I  laid  one  hand  on  my  heart,  and  bent  my  head  a  little, 
not  exactly  knowing  what  else  to  do ;  and  I  said,  with  what  I 
hope  was  becoming  modesty  : 

"  Oh  !  your  Highness — is  it  Highness — Excellency,  or  High 
Cockolorum  ?  "  I  whispered  to  the  lady  who  stood  next  me. 

"  Excellency,"  whispered  she  back  again. 

"  Oh,  your  High  Excellency,"  says  I ;  for,  being  by  nature  a 
conservative,  I  took  what  seemed  best  out  of  each.  u  You  are 
too  complimentary." 

With  that  I  made  him  a  curtsey  that  over-matched  his  bow, 
for  there  was  more  of  it  a  good  deal,  on  account  of  his  smallness, 
and  my  height,  in  which  we  were  both  a  little  peculiar. 

The  Embassador  looked  as  if  he  hadn't  time  to  answer ;  for 
he  was  busy  bowing  to  the  other  ladies,  and  the  rest  of  the 
8* 


178  That  Diplomatic  Stag  Party. 

Japanese  all  came  up,  and  there  was  such  a  slow  bending  time 
among  'ein  that  it  was  ten  minutes  before  there  was  anything 
else  done.  Then  we  got  a  little  mixed,  and  seemed  to  be  ladies 
altogether,  only  those  who  were  going  in  to  dinner  seemed  to 
carry  their  own  punch-bowls  on  their  heads  ;  as  for  dresses  and 
so  on,  we  were  pretty  much  alike,  and  the  master  of  the  house  in 
his  black  coat,  and  so  forth,  seemed  the  only  man  among  us. 

By  and  by  Mr.  Iwakura  come  back  to  where  I  was  standing, 
and  the  young  man  came  with  him  to  do  up  the  talking. 
-  "  I  have  never  before  seen  a  lady  that  wrote  books,"  says  he, 
in  the  sweetest  manner ;  which  the  other  repeated  in  English 
that  wasn't  half  so  musical. 

There  was  an  inward  struggle  in  my  mind ;  the  compliment 
was  sweet,  and  I  longed  to  keep  it ;  but  truth  is  truth.  My 
foot  is  on  the  threshold  ;  I  have  looked  into  the  Temple  of 
Fame,  but  am  not  yet  what  I  hope  to  be ;  but  the  truth  is,  I 
haven't  written  any  books,  as  books,  yet.  It  wounded  me  to 
say  so,  but  truth  is  a  jewel  that  I  have  resolved  shall  shine, 
like  a  railroad  man's  diamond,  in  my  bosom,  forever. 

"  Your  High  Excellency,"  says  I,  with  brave  self-control,  "  my 
humble  efforts  have  not  yet  been  bound  in  covers,  but  they  will 
soon  increase  to  that  extent.  Have  you  no  female  authors  in 
that  Japanee  country  of  yours  ?  " 

When  the  young  man  expounded  these  questions  to  Mr. 
Iwakura,  the  eyes  of  his  High  Excellency  began  to  sparkle 
from  one  sharp  corner  to  the  other,  and  he  smiled  blandly — 

"  Oh  yes !  we  have  ladies  who  write  in  Japan ;  but  not  lines 
of  wisdom,  like  yourself;  they  write  poems." 

"  Love  poems  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Mostly,"  says  he ;  and  his  little  eyes  lighted  up  from  cor 
ner  to  corner — "  love  poems,  home  poems,  and  such  things  as 
ladies  understand  by  heart." 

(( The  Japanese  language  is  so  sweet,"  says  I,  "  the  ladies 
cannot  be  very  strong-minded  that  write  it." 

"  Strong-minded — what  is  that  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Manly,  strong ;  sometimes  fierce,"  says  I. 


The  Dinner.  179 

"  His  Highness  does  not  quite  comprehend,"  says  the  young 
man. 

"  Then  I  must  illustrate,"  says  I.  "  For  instance,  if  an 
American  woman  were  to  dress  as  near  like  a  man  as — well,  I 
beg  pardon — as  his  High  Excellency  and  his  friends  dress  like 
women,  we  should  call  them  high-minded." 

"  But  do  they  ?     Shall  we  see  any  ladies  like  that  ?  " 

"  You  will  no  doubt  see  females  like  that,"  says  I,  with  dig 
nity. 


XLI. 

THE   DINNEE. 

I. HERE  was  no  more  conversing  just  then,  for  the  tall 
fellow  in  gloves  was  so  busy,  opening  and  shutting  the 
out-doors,  and  gentlemen  came  pouring  in  so  thick  and 
fast  that  we  all  had  to  attend  to  them.  I  was  sorry  for  this, 
as  the  conversation  was  taking  a  turn  that  would  have  been  of 
interest  to  us  as  a  Society.  I  was  just  going  to  ask  about  the 
marriage  relations  among  the  Japanese,  and  intended  to  enter 
into  a  delicate  investigation  regarding  the  present  company. 
But  a  smart,  handsome,  bright -looking  gentleman  came  in, 
dressed  up  to  the  nines  ;  and  before  I  could  say  another  word 
to  Mr.  Iwakura,  this  gentleman  was  bowing  to  me,  and  I  was 
making  my  best  curtsey  to  him.  I  was  just  delighted,  for  he 
looks  a  soldier,  every  inch  of  him,  standing  up  straight  as  an 
arrow,  but  bowing  so  graceful  and  easy. 

Then  others  came  pouring  in,  and  we  ladies  were  busy  as 
bees  doing  the  honors. 

There  was  no  end  of  generals  that  bowed  to  me  that  night. 
There  was  General  Farnsworth,  from  Illinois  State,  about  the 
tallest  and  most  manly  gentleman  among  them.  The  long, 
sweeping  beard  that  fell  over  his  bosom  was  something  splen- 


180  The  Dinner. 

did.  If  that  man  wasn't  born  in  New  England,  he  ought  to 
have  been — that's  all. 

But  I  haven't  room  nor  time,  in  a  short  report,  to  give  par 
ticulars  about  a  hundred  or  so  gentlemen.  They  were  all  men 
that  you've  heard  of  over  and  over  again,  for  in  his  invitations 
Mr.  Brooks  had  just  skimmed  the  cream  off  from  Congress,  and 
it  was  something  beautiful  to  see  it  pour  itself  through  the  par 
lors  into  the  great  dining-room,  built  on  purpose  for  "  that 
night  only." 

It  didn't  take  long  for  the  parlors  to  empty  themselves  into 
that  room  when  a  whisper  went  round  that  dinner  was  ready. 
In  less  than  five  minutes  after,  another  follow  in  white  gloves 
came  sliding  into  the  room,  and  spoke  low  to  Mr.  Brooks, — we 
ladies  were  left  alone,  looking  at  one  another,  like  babes  in  the 
woods. 

A  cat  may  look  on  a  king,  and  ladies  do  sometimes  look  in 
upon  stag  parties.  Well,  I  got  a  little  restless,  and  began  to 
wonder  how  the  cat  got  a  good  look,  and  how  I  could  get  a  peep 
at  the  feeding  stags. 

While  the  rest  were  talking,  I  slid  off  to  one  of  the  back 
windows,  which  opened  upon  the  great  banqueting  hall — you 
have  seen  that  term  in  novels — and,  hid  under  a  cataract  of 
stars  and  stripes,  I  saw  and  heard  all  that  was  going  on,  and  a 
splendiferous  sight  it  was. 

The  great  hall  was  hung  every  which  way  with  flags.  They 
rolled  over  the  ceiling  in  waves,  fell  down  the  wall  in  festoons 
and  curtains,  striped,  starred,  mooned,  crossed,  tangled  in  gas 
lamps,  looped  up  with  flowers. 

Rings  of  gaslights  dropped  half  way  down  from  the  roof,  and 
from  them  baskets  of  flowers  swung  over  the  great,  long  tables 
that  were  just  one  glitter  of  silver  and  glass,  flowers  and  fruit, 
at  which  a  hundred  or  more  gentlemen  were  seated. 

Great  candlesticks,  spreading  out  with  branches  of  gold  and 
snow-white  candles,  stood  half  way  down  each  table,  and  rising 
up  above  them  were  tall  pyramids  of  flowers,  crowded  in 
with  pineapples,  grapes,  pears,  oranges,  and  sugar  things  enough 


The  Dinner.  181 

to  feed  all  the  children  in  Washington  for  a  month.  Smaller 
flower-pots,  crowded  in  with  fruit,  were  scattered  every  once 
in  a  while  along  the  tables. 

Back  of  Mr.  Brooks's  chair  was  a  banner  with  a  lot  of  lions 
rampaging  over  it,  and  a  harp  worked  in  one  corner  of  it. 
Over  that  was  another  banner,  with  a  full  inoon  and  a  baby 
moon  blazing  away  on  it,  and  all  around  them  was  a  whole 
hail-storm  of  stars  that  seemed  to  catch  fire  from  the  gas,  and 
burn  of  themselves. 

The  whole  room  was  light  as  morning,  and  gorgeous  as  a 
sunset.  Sisters,  believe  me,  the  way  those  men  were  enjoying 
themselves  was  enough  to  make  a  genuine  woman  grind  her 
teeth.  The  popping  of  corks  as  they  flew  from  the  bottles  was 
loud  and  swift  as  the  guns  fired  on  a  Down  East  training  day, 
and  the  gurgle  of  wine  as  it  foamed  into  the  glasses  was  mellow 
and  constant  as  the  flow  of  that  brook  through  the  hemlock 
back  of  our  old  school-house. 

Then  the  talking,  the  laughing,  the  hail-good-fellow  way  in 
•which  everything  was  done,  just  aggravated  me  out  of  a  year's 
growth. 

By  and  by  Mr.  Brooks  got  up  and  made  a  speech,  welcoming 
the  Japanee  guests  and  praising  Japan  beautifully.  Then  he 
asked  General  Farnsworth  to  do  the  same  thing  over  again, 
which  he  did  in  the  most  splendid  way. 

Then  Mr.  Iwakura  got  up  and  poured  out  a  soft,  slow  flood 
of  words,  that  seemed  sweet  as  new  cider,  with  which  the  whole 
company  was  charmed  almost  to  death,  though  there  wasn't  a 
soul  that  knew  what  it  was  all  about,  any  more  than  I  did. 

Then  Mr.  Iwakura  sat  down  and  gathered  his  purple  frock 
over  his  knees,  satisfied  that  he  had  done  his  duty,  whether  the 
rest  understood  it  or  not. 

Then  they  all  drank  wine  till  there  was  no  Jet  up  to  that 
sound  of  militia  firing  and  of  running  brooks,  except  when 
somebody  was  melting  soft-solder  over  somebody  else,  which 
they  tell  me,  here  in  Washington,  is  the  high  privilege  of  a 
stag  party. 


1 82  In  the  Basement  of  the  Capitol. 

My  opinion  is  that  they  are  ashamed  to  compliment  each 
other  so  broadly  when  ladies  are  by,  knowing  that  no  crowd  of 
females  could  be  brought  to  the  pitch  of  glorifying  each  other 
after  that  fashion,  or  would  stand  it  to  hear  so  much  flattery 
wasted  on  a  lot  of  men  when  they  were  by. 


XLII. 

IN   THE    BASEMENT   OF    THE   CAPITOL. 

ILL,  sisters,  that  chunky  woman  on  the  top  of  the 
great  iron  wash-bowl,  that  some  giant  seems  to  have 
turned  upside  down  on  the  roof  of  the  Capitol,  has 
more  to  do  than  any  other  female  I'm  acquainted  with,  if  she 
can  keep  the  flock  of  men  they  call  Congress  in  any  kind  of 
order.  No  wonder  she  has  the  look  of  the  kitchen  about  her, 
and  seem  to  be  carrying  a  bundle  of  soiled  clothes  on  her  head 
for  a  wash  in  the  clouds  !  for,  of  all  the  sloppy  places  I  ever 
heard  of,  this  great  marble  building  seems  to  be  the  beatomest. 
Congressmen  seem  to  be  always  getting  out  dirty  clothes  here, 
beside  whitewashing  every  now  and  then,  raking  each  other 
over  the  coals,  and  doing  all  sorts  of  kitchen  and  garden  work. 
Cousin  Dempster  told  me  all  this  before  I  went  up  to  see 
exactly  what  Congress  was,  and  it  certainly  upset  me,  you  may 
just  believe.  That  great  building,  which  might  be  cut  up  into 
half  a  dozen  palaces  for  kings  to  live  in,  turned  into  a  wash- 
house  and  national  laundry  !  The  very  thought  made  me  creep 
all  over. 

I  always  like  to  investigate  matters  from  the  foundation,  so 
the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  go  into  the  basement  story  of  the 
building,  and  see  what  the  kitchen  arrangements  amounted  to. 
Of  course  Cousin  D.  could  be  of  no  use  to  me,  and  Cousin  E. 
E.  declined  the  subterranean  raid,  as  she  nippingly  called  it, 


In  the  Basement  of  the  Capitol.  183 

which  ended  in  my  going  into  the  underground  department 
alone. 

"Well,  the  first  thing  that  struck  me  was  the  duskiness  of  the 
place  ;  it  was  like  travelling  through  a  sunset  that  had  no  color 
in  it.  The  whole  building  seemed  to  have  put  on  a  gray  mantle 
and  gone  to  sleep.  I  went  upstairs  and  downstairs,  travelled 
over  miles  of  stone  floors,  and  through  forests  of  great  stone 
posts  that  looked  strong  enough  to  have  a  world  built  atop  of 
them.  Once  in  a  while  I  caught  sight  of  a  man  scooting  along 
in  the  dusk  before  me  like  a  black  ghost ;  and  once  I  heard 
noises  like  the  rush  of  a  steamboat  down  below  me,  and  began 
to  suspect  that  the  wash-house  and  lime-slacking  department 
was  lower  down  yet.  I  opened  two  or  three  doors,  and  looked 
into  a  good  many  dark  and  deserted  rooms  piled  up  with  books 
and  crowded  full  of  all  sorts  of  things.  Once  or  twice  I  saw 
the  head  of  a  man  popping  up  between  piles  of  books,  but  no 
sign  of  washing,  as  yet. 

Well,  I  wandered  on  and  on,  till  at  last  I  came  to  a  great 
kitchen  that  looked  lively  enough.  Lots  of  men  were  moving 
about,  fires  were  burning,  and  there  was  a  lovely  scent  of  roast 
chickens  and  boiled  garden-sass — I  beg  pardon,  vegetables.  I 
would  have  gone  in  and  asked  some  questions  about  the  wash- 
tubs,  but  not  a  female  woman  was  to  be  seen — and  I  hope  I 
know  what  is  due  to  my  sex  too  well  for  any  attempt  to  draw 
the  attention  of  men  in  the  service  of  their  country  by  the 
presence  of  attractions  that — well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  the 
charm  of  high  female  society  might  have  seemed  a  little  out  of 
place  so  low  down  in  that  stone  wilderness.  So  I  took  a  new 
turn,  and  came  out  in  a  grand  eating  department,  crowded  full 
of  tables,  where  ever  so  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  were  eating, 
talking,  laughing,  and  drinking  bottled  cider  till  their  eyes 
sparkled. 

I  went  into  the  room  with  that  quiet  dignity  which  some 
people  have  said  was  the  greatest  charm  of  your  missionary, 
and  spreading  out  my  skirts  a  little,  sat  down  by  one  of  the 
tables.  A  very  genteel  young  man  caine  up  to  me  that  minute, 


1 84  In  the  Basement  of  the  Capitol. 

as  hospitable  as  could  be,  and  asked  with  a  bow  what  I  would 
please  to  have. 

"Oh,  almost  anything  that  isn't  too  much  trouble,"  says  I. 

Says  he,  "  There  is  everything  on  the  cart." 

He  pronounced  "  cart "  with  a  drawl  that  riled  me,  for,  if 
there  is  anything  I  hate,  it  is  the  stuck-up  way  some  people 
have  of  twistifying  common  words :  but  I  didn't  want  to  re 
buke  the  fellow  too  much,  and  answered  in  the  bland  and 
Christian  way  you  have  so  often  praised,  my  dear  sisters,  that 
I  did  not  wish  to  stay  long  enough  for  them  to  unload  a  cart, 
but  if  he  had  just  as  lief  as  not,  would  take  some  baked  pork 
and  beans — that  is,  if  there  was  any  handy. 

The  fellow  shook  his  head. 

"  No  pork  and  beans  !  "  says  I ;  "  do  you  call  this  national 
house-keeping  ?  " 

That  brought  the  fellow  up  to  a  sense  of  duty  in  no  time. 
He  snatched  up  a  little  thin  book  that  lay  on  the  table,  read  it  a 
minute,  and  then  went  off.  By  and  by  he  came  back  with  a 
dish  in  his  hand,  on  which  were  a  few  beans,  all  brown  and 
crisped  to  death,  with  a  skimpy  slice  of  pork  lying  across  the 
top. 

I  took  the  dish  in  my  hands,  and  examined  it  up  and  down, 
right  and  left,  with  an  air  that  must  have  cut  that  fellow  to 
the  soul,  if  he  had  one. 

'•  You  call  that  pork  and  beans  ?  "  says  I,  a-lifting  my  fore 
finger,  and  almost  shaking  it  at  him.  "  Why,  young  man,  il 
looks  more  like  a  handful  of  gravel-stones." 

The  young  man  spread  his  hands  a  little,  and  looked  so 
confused  that  I  began  to  feel  sorry  for  him. 

"  Never  mind,"  says  I ;  "  no  doubt  you  have  had  the  awfui 
misfortune  of  being  born  out  of  New  England,  and  that  is 
punishment  enough.  It  is  the  fault  of  our  Congressmen  if  the 
great  New  England  mystery  of  baked  beans  has  not  been  ex 
plained  and  elucidated  in  the  national  kitchen,"  says  I,  "  most 
people  do  degenerate  so  when  they  once  get  out  of  the  pure 
mountain  air.  But  then  our  statesmen  may  consider  this  a 


In  the  Basement  of  the  Capitol.  185 

Perhaps  it  is.  There  was  a  time  when 
females  understood  such  things,  but  we  have  got  to  hankering 
after  offices  and  votes  and  rostrums,  till  such  things  have  become 
nostrums — excuse  the  rhyme,  if  you  don't  happen  to  be  a 
poetical  young  man,"  says  I;  "it  isn't  extraordinary  that  such 
things  are  neglected,  and  that  the  great  New  English  dish  in 
troduced  by  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  has  degenerated  into  this." 

Here  I  pointed  sarcastically  at  thepebble-stones,  and,  with 
killing  irony,  asked  him  to  send  me  something  to  eat. 

Ha  took  up  the  dish,  and  seemed  glad  to  go — no  wonder,  my 
words  had  cut  him  to  the  soul.  By  and  by  he  came  back,  and 
handed  me  that  thin  book  which  hadn't  half  a  dozen  leaves  in 
it,  and,  says  he  : 

"  Will  madam  make  her  choice  ?  " 

I  opened  the  book,  and  tried  to  see  what  it  was  all  about ; 
but  there  was  nothing  to  read.  A  lot  of  English  words  twisted 
out  of  all  shape  and  meaning,  with  some  figures  cut  up  in 
short  rows,  were  scattered  over  the  pages  as  if  they  had  been 
shook  out  of  a  pepper-box.  The  only  thing  I  could  make  out 
that  seemed  to  have  a  sensible  meaning,  was — beef.  This  I 
read  out  loud — glad  to  find  one  good  wholesome  word  to  light 
on. 

<c  Roast  beef,"  says  the  fellow,  and  away  he  went. 

There  was  no  use  trying  to  get  anything  like  reading  out  of 
that  ghost  of  a  book ;  so  I  sat  still  and  looked  on,  wondering 
what  brought  so  many  ladies  into  the  Capit6l,  as  they  are  not 
considered  Congressmen  yet. 


1 86  Phcemie  Dines  with  a  Senator. 

XLIII. 

PHCEMIE    DINES    WITH    A   SENATOR. 

[EAR  SISTERS :  I  had  moved  my  chair  back  a  little, 
for  it  seemed  rather  lonesome  sitting  there  with  noth 
ing  but  a  table-cloth  spread  before  me,  and  a  castor  on 
it,  when  a  gentleman  came  in  and  sat  down  on  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  just  as  if  I  hadn't  been  there. 

Ho  took  up  the  skimpy  book,  and  began  to  read,  as  if  he 
understood  every  word  of  it — figures  and  all.  By  and  by  a 
young  fellow  came  up  to  him.  They  whispered  together  a 
minute,  and  the  gentleman  kept  pointing  at  the  book. 

Just  then,  the  yoiniij  m:m  that  I  had  been  so  sociable  with, 
came  up  with  some  dishes  in  his  hand,  which  he  set  down  on 
the  table,  then  spread  his  hands  a  little,  as  much  as  to  say, 
politely:  "  Set  to,  ma'am,  and  help  yourself;"  which  I  did. 

Sisters,  the  national  kitchens  want  renovating.  There  is 
female  missionary  work  here  enough  to  keep  half  our  Society 
busy  for  a  year.  That  beef  was  never  roasted  by  a  fire.  I'll 
take  my  oath  of  that.  It  never  swung  on  an  iron  skewer,  in 
side  of  a  tin  oven  before  a  hickory-wood  fire,  since  it  was  a 
born  calf.  There's  no  cheating  me  in  such  things.  Why,  this 
beef  had  a  taste  of  chickens,  and  oysters,  and  baked  pork  about 
it,  so  strong  that1  you  couldn't  at  first  tell  which  it  was,  or  if 
its  birthplace  was  a  barn-yard,  a  hen-coop,  or  the  salt  sea  ocean. 

Yes,  there  is  mission  work  in  these  subterranean  kitchens. 
Still,  if  members  of  Congress  know  how  to  wash  and  white 
wash  so  well,  they  might  take  the  cooking  in  hand  too.  Per 
haps  they  have,  though. 

When  men  try  a  hand  at  woman's  work,  or  women  take  up 
the  business  of  men,  it's  apt  to  mix  things  up  till  you  don't 
know  which  is  which.  I  rather  think  the  members  have  been 
down  here,  while  the  women  were  lecturing  on  politics  upstairs. 
It  looks  like  it,  in  both  places. 


Phcsmie  Dines  with  a  Senator.  187 

Well,  I  didn't  want  to  find  too  much  fault.  Human  nature 
could  not  stand  the  pork  and  beans,  but  I  tried  my  best  to  put 
up  with  the  beef,  and  make  believe  it  was  delicious. 

.  Just  as  I  took  up  my  knife  the  other  young  fellow  came  to 
the  table,  and  set  some  dishes  down  before  the  gentleman. 
Then  he  took  a  knife  and  hacked  away  at  a  long-necked  bottle 
till  he  got  the  cork  loose,  and  let  the  whole  affair,  foaming  and 
sparkling,  into  a  glass.  The  sight  fairly  made  my  eyes  sparkle, 
for  I  was  awful  thirsty,  and  the  rich  gurgle  made  me  more 

so. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  a-holding  out  my  glass  to  the  young  man, 
"  if  that's  Vermont  cider,  and  I  seem  to  feel  as  if  it  is,  I'll 
thank  you  for  a  glass." 

The  gentleman  looked  up  quickly ;  turned  to  the  young  man 
with  a  funny  sort  of  a  smile,  and  nodded  his  head,  just  as  if  it 
was  anything  to  him. 

I'm  not  quite  certain  about  it,  but  if  that  foaming  stuff  was 
cider,  it  must  have  been  made  from  russet  apples,  for  it 
brightened  me  up  all  over  till  every  drop  of  blood  in  me 
seemed  to  sparkle. 

"  It  would  be  near  about  impossible  to  drink  that  through  a 
straw,  it  bubbles  so,"  says  I,  feeling  it  my  duty  to  be  sociable, 
and  make  the  gentleman  feel  quite  at  home  at  the  national 
.table.  "  I  think  the  cider  is  about  the  only  thing  that  don't 
degenerate  when  it  leaves  New  England." 

"  The  cider,"  says  he,  opening  his  eyes  wide. 

"Yes,"  says  I,  holding  out  my  glass  again,  "  that  keeps  its 
own  vim,  and  a  little  more  so.  Take  another  glass  yourself, 
sir!" 

I  thought  as  I  was  first  at  the  table,  and  a  lady,  that  he 
would  expect  a  little  extra  attention,  and  gave  it  with  my 
usual  bland  politeness. 

He  smiled,  and  his  eyes  began  to  sparkle  under  the  gold 
glasses  he  wore. 

"  Certainly,"  says  he,  "  you  are  very  kind ;  from  Vermont 
I  think  you  said." 


1 88  Phcemie  Dines  with  a  Senator. 

"  Just  so,"  says  I.     «  Sprucehill.     Let  me  help  you  to  a  lit- 
tie  of  this  roast  beef,  if  I  may  call  it  so." 

"  Thank  you,"  says  he,  and  that  funny  smile  crinkled  his 
lips  again,  "  I  am  well  served." 

ft  struck  me  as  rather  singular,  that  he,  being  a  gentleman, 
ffer  me  any  of  the  dishes  on  his  side  of  the  table  •  but 
e  didn't,  and,  as  a  gentle  rebuke,  I  said  to  the  young 'man 
who  stood  behind  him  : 

"  Please  to  pass  some  of  those  dishes  this  way  !  " 
The  fellow  blushed  and  hesitated,  and  looked  at  the  gentle 
man  in  gold  spectacles,  who  blushed  a  little,  too,  but  said  to 
the  young  fellow  : 

"  Certainly  ;  why  don't  you  pass  them  over  to  the  lady  ?  " 
There   was  something  in  a  dish  that    looked  a  little  like 
mashed  potatoes.     I  helped  myself  with  a  spoon,  and  tasted  it 
"What   is   this?"   says  I.       "Your  potatoes  taste  awful 
cheesey. 

"  It  is  not  potatoes,  but  calf's  brains  au  gratin,"  says  he 

Calf  s  bruins,  a  grating,"  says  I ;  «  calf 's  brains,  and  I  eatin" 
tern.     Young  man,  I'll  have  you  investigated  for  this  !   Calf's 
uns,    indeed!     do    you   think    I'm    a   cannibal.     Take    the 
heathenish  dish  out  of  my  sight." 

The  gentleman  laughed,  and  says  he : 
"  I  will  relieve  you  of  it." 

Then  he  drew  it  over  his  way  and  began  to  eat 
declare,  sisters,  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  that  man  finishing  up 
ish  as  if  he  liked  it.  He  seemed  to  have  brains  enough  of  his 
own,  without  wanting  to  rob  a  spring  calf  of  what  little  be- 
longs  to  it.     But  he  finished  the  dish  and  got  up  to  go,  making 
me  a  real  polite  bow  as  he  went  away  from  the  table. 
When  he  was  gone  I  beckoned  to  the  young  man. 

Is    that   man  from  the    Sandwich    Islands,    or  where  ? " 
says  I. 

^  That  gentleman !   Oh,  he's  a  Senator  from  the  West,"  says  he. 
The  whitewashing  committee  hate  him  like  poison.     He  gives 
them  enough  to  do,  I  can  tell  you.    Awful  in  that  direction  " 


Phcemie  Dines  with  a  Senator.  189 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I.  fl  Is  that  the  man  who  has 
raised  the  price  of  lime  and  whiting  to  such  an  extent  ?  " 

"  That's  the  very  man." 

"  Dear  me !  and  he  eats  brains — cheesey  at  that.  I  never 
saw  anything  like  it." 

61  Oh,  that  is  a  very  popular  dish,  ma'am. 

"  With  Congressmen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  with  Congressmen." 

"Especially?" 

"  Especially." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  says  I. 

When  I  hitched  my  chair  back,  and  took  up  my  satchel, 
the  man  put  a  bit  of  stiff  paper  in  my  hands,  with  some  fig 
ures  on  it.  I  thanked  him  and  went  out,  feeling  a  little 
lighter  than  I  had  done,  on  account  of  the  cider.  The  young 
man  followed  me  a  step  or  two,  and  seemed  as  if  he  wanted  to 
say  something  ;  but  that  was  a  familiarity  I  had  no  idea  of  en 
couraging  ;  so  I  passed  on,  determined  to  find  the  other  kitchen 
departments,  and  set  up  a  private  investigation  of  rny  own. 
But  at  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  stairs,  all  made  of  spotted  mar 
ble,  I  met  Cousin  Dempster,  who  was  looking  for  me. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  at  last !  Where  on  earth  have  you 
been?" 

"  In  the  kitchen  and  dining-room,  so  far,"  says  I. 

"  Kitchen — dining-room  !  "  says  he.  "  Oh  !  you  have  been 
into  the  restaurant — not  alone,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  I ;  "  there  was  plenty  of  company ;  but  the 
cooking  is  enough  to  try  a  person." 

"Why,  did  you  order  refreshments?" 

"  Refreshments  were  offered  to  me,"  says  I,  "  and  I  ac 
cepted  them,  as  a  free-born  American  woman  has  a  right  to  do 
at  her  country's  table." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  says  Cousin  Dempster,  al 
most  angry.  "  What  is  that  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"  A  bit  of  paper  that  the  young  man  gave  me  as  I  came 
out,"  says  I. 


190  Phcemie  Dines  witJi  a  Senator. 

"But  you  should  have  given  this  up,"  says  he,  turning 
red. 

"What  for?  "says  I. 

"  Did  you  pay  nothing  ?  " 

"  Pay  !  of  course  not.  Who  ever  thinks  of  paying  anything 
to  the  Government  ?  " 

"You  do  not  understand." 

"What?" 

"  You  have  been  into  a  restaurant,"  says  he. 

"  That's  more  than  I  know  of,  never  having  been  in  one  in 
my  born  days." 

"  And  have  come  away  with  this !  " 

"  Look  a-here,  Cousin  Dempster,"  says  I ;  "  does  this  great 
nation  keep  a  boarding-house,  or  a  tavern,  in  its  Capitol  ? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know.  Do  you  think  I  mean  to  insult 
the  country  I  was  born  in  ?  " 

"  It  keeps  a  restaurant  for  the  accommodation  of  members," 
says  he,  "  and  you've  been  in  it.  Just  give  me  that  check ; 
the  country  don't  feed  its  statesmen — at  any  rate,  directly." 

I  gave  him  the  square  bit  of  paper,  and,  when  he  left  me 
alone,  just  sat  down  on  those  marble  steps  and  waited. 

I  don't  wonder  these  investigating  committees  want  to 
shirk  their  duties.  I,  being  only  a  committee  of  one,  and  self- 
constituted,  feel  as  if  I'd  had  quite  enough  of  exploring  down" 
stairs.  But  what  on  earth  Cousin  Dempster  is  making  such  a 
fuss  about,  I  have  no  idea.  One  would  think  there  was  some 
thing  dreadful  on  that  square  piece  of  paper  by  the  way  he 
acted  ;  but  he's  like  everybody  else,  I  suppose,  when  he  gets  to 
Washington,  and  can't  make  himself  more  than  half  under 
stood  on  any  subject. 


Marble  Halls.  191 


XLIV. 

MARBLE    HALLS. 

jjE  AB,  SISTERS  : — In  my  last  report  I  gave  you  a  dim 
account  of  the  underground  department  of  Congress. 
In  fact,  it  was  so  dim  down  there,  that  I  couldn't  see 
anything  clearly.  I  hope  this  report  will  have  a  little  more 
brightness  in  it ;  but  of  that  I  am  not  at  all  certain,  for  a 
downright  honest  look  at  anything  here  in  Washington  is  like 
snatching  at  a  handful  of  fog. 

After  wandering  over  all  that  town  of  cellars  and  basements, 
in  search  of  the  whitewashing  department  and  the  washing- 
room,  I  came  away  without  seeing  a  sign  of  them.  It  seems 
to  me  that  the  cooking  and  eating  is  all  that  one  finds  done 
openly  here.  About  that,  too,  there  is  something  that  riles 
the  New  England  blood  in  my  veins.  No  wonder  I  couldn't 
make  out  half  that  those  waiter  chaps  said  to  me. 

There,  in  the  great  kitchen  of  the  first  nation  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  free-born  American  citizens  sit  down  contentedly 
and  eat  French  dishes,  with  bull-frogs  in  them,  I  dare  say, 
and  eat  them,  too,  on  the  European  plan.  The  European 
plan  !  as  if  the  fine  old  fashion  set  by  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  was 
not  good  enough  for  their  descendants !  It's  enough  to  cur 
dle  the  blood  in  one's  veins  to  see  what  our  country  is  coming 
to,  with  a  plan  of  broken-down  old  Europe  in  the  very  base 
ment  of  our  Capitol.  Do  our  members  of  Congress  remember 
the  time  when  their  fathers  ate  samp  and  milk  on  a  table  set 
against  the  wall,  with  one  leaf  spread  ?  Sometimes  the  rich 
est  of  them  in  our  State  got  a  little  maple  molasses  with  the 
samp,  but  oftener  it  was  skim  milk,  and  nothing  else.  But 
men  were, men  in  those  days;  I — that  is,  I  have  heard  my 
mother  say  so — of  course,  I  wasn't  old  enough  to  know  exactly 
at  what  time  samp  and  milk  got  out  of  fashion  as  a  first-class 
domestic  meal.  I  can't  help  but  think,  sisters,  that  the  male 


192  Marble  Halls. 

sex  began  to  degenerate  while  we  were  children,  or  we  should 
never  have  been  left  in  our  native  village  to  form  a  society, 
which  seems  destined  to  enlighten  this  generation,  without  in 
creasing  it. 

Well,  sisters,  Cousin  Dempster  found  me  sitting  on  those 
hard,  beautiful  marble  steps,  thinking  over  these  things  in  a 
saddening  way.  He  insisted  on  it  that  I  should  leave  off  my 
subterraneous  investigations,  as  he  called  my  travels  in  the 
basement,  and  see  Congress  meet. 

I  declare,  it's  a  Sabbath  day's  journey  from  one  end  of  that 
great  long  marble  building  to  the  other.  The  marble  stairs  I 
had  been  resting  on  came  up  near  the  Senate  chamber.  Cousin 
Dempster  said,  "  But  perhaps  we  had  better  go  over  to  the 
House  first." 

"  Whose  house  ?  "  says  I,  getting  out  of  patience  ;  "  I  thought 
we  had  come  to  see  Congress." 

"So  we  have,"  says  he ;  "  it  will  assemble  in  a  few  minutes, 
so  we  must  hurry  and  get  into  the  House." 

"  Why  don't  Congress  assemble  in  this  building  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Of  course  it  does,  at  the  other  end,"  says  he. 

"  Then  what  on  earth  do  you  want  to  take  me  into  any 
other  house  for  ?  I  want  to  see  Congress !  As  for  the  houses 
in  Washington,  they  are  no  great  shakes,  after  all.  New  York 
wouldn't  take  the  best  of  'em  as  a  gift." 

"  Cousin  Phcemie,"  says  Dempster,  sort  of  impatient,  "  you 
are  the  most  extraordinary  combination  of  a  woman  I  ever 
saw." 

I  stopped  short  and  made  him  a  curtsey  to  the  ground — 
slow,  graceful,  and  infinitely  sarcastic.  He  seemed  to  feel  it 
keenly. 

"  Judges,  a  little  more  competent  than  you  are,  have  said 
as  much  before,"  I  observed,  scathing  him  through  and  through 
with  my  eyes. 

"I  mean  no  offence,"  says  he,  "but  really  you  are  the 
brightest,  and — and  stupidest  woman!  " 

£t  Girl,  if  you  please,"  savs  I. 


Marble  Halls.  193 

"  Well,  girl.  In  some  things  a  child  could  teach  you ;  in 
others,  you  fairly  dazzle  the  brightest  of  us." 

"Thank  you,"  says  I;  "just  crown  me  with  bitter-sweet, 
and  have  done  with  it.  If  there  is  anything  that  riles  me 
more  than  another,  it  is  a  double  and  twisted  compliment." 

"  There,  there !  do  be  reasonable,  and  hurry  along,"  says 
Dempster,  a-trying  to  shuffle  out  of  the  whole  thing  ;  "  don't 
you  see  the  members  crowding  into  the  House  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  the  house  yet,"  says  I,  not  half  pacified. 

"  Of  course  not — how  can  you,  till  we  get  there  ?  " 

Cousin  Dempster  walked  on,  and,  of  course,  I  had  to  follow. 

"  Wait  one  minute,"  says  I,  "  while  I  look  at  this  great 
round  picture  overhead.  What  on  earth  is  it  all  about  ?  The 
women  up  there  look  mighty  unsafe.  Now,  what  room  is  this, 
with  its  roof  in  the  sky,  and  its  floor  solid  stone  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  rotunda,"  says  he ;  "  the  national  pictures  are 
all  around  you,  but  we  haven't  time  to  look  at  them  now — 
some  other  day." 

I  couldn't  help  looking  back,  for  such  a  room  I  never  saw 
in  my  born  days.  It  was  like  a  stone  park  roofed  in  so  high 
up  that  the  pictured  women  overhead  seemed  perched  among 
the  clouds.  Over  them  the  light  came  pouring  like  water 
down  a  cataract,  filling  the  broad  space  below  as  if  it  had  been 
all  out  of  doors. 

But  I  had  no  time  to  see  more,  for  Cousin  Dempster  led  me 
through  a  hallway  and  into  another  round  room,  except  at  one 
end,  where  a  gallery  ran  straight  across  and  then  curved 
around  the  whole  room,  hooping  it  in  like  a  horseshoe.  In 
front  of  the  straight  gallery  ran  a  row  of  stone  pillars — tall, 
large,  and  shiny  as  glass — spotted,  too,  like  the  leopards  in  a 
show,  and  towering  up  like  the  pillars  in  Solomon's  Temple, 
which  the  Queen  of  Sheba  travelled  so  far  to  exa.mine.  The 
idea  that  she  took  all  that  trouble  to  get  acquainted  with  Solo 
mon,  is  just  ridiculous.  Why,  it  would  have  taken  the  hy 
meneal  monarch  a  whole  lifetime  to  have  introduced  her  to  his 
family  in  a  decorous  way.  Besides,  if  he  provided  for  his  own 


194  Randolph  Rogers'  Bronze  Doors. 

household  out  of  the  government,  only  think  how  busy  he  must 
have  been  in  finding  places  for  the  relations  of  all  his  wives  ! 
No  doubt  he  let  the  Queen  of  Sheba  see  his  Temple,  and  left 
her  to  be  entertained  by  two  or  three  hundred  of  his  wives. 
Not  being  a  ladies'  man,  what  more  could  he  do  ? 

Well,  as  Cousin  Dempster  says,  I  do  sometimes  let  my  pen 
run  away  with  me ;  but  when  it  turns  toward  the  Scriptural 
history  of  my  sex,  I  let  it  run. 


XLV. 


ILL,"  says  I  to  Cousin  D.,  "  what  room  do  you  call 
this?" 

"  Oh,  this  is  the  old  House,"  says  he. 

The  old  house  !  Sisters,  there  are  times  when  I  think 
Dempster  is  beside  himself.  I  did  not  deign  to  answer  him, 
except  with  a  look  that  would  have  stopped  the  sap  running 
from  a  young  maple  in  the  brightest  April  day  you  ever  saw. 
He  didn't  seem  to  mind  it,  though,  but  went  on  as  if  I  hadn't 
pierced  him  with  my  eyes. 

"  These  doors,"  says  he,  swinging  back  the  half  of  a  door  that 
seemed  to  be  made  of  brass  and  gold  and  powdered  green-stone 
pounded  together,  and  cut  into  the  most  lovely  pictures  that 
you  ever  set  eyes  011 — "  these  doors  open  to  the  new  House. 
They  are  by  Rogers,  and  cost  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"  Thirty  thousand  dollars  for  these  two  doors,  Cousin  Demp 
ster  !  I  have  just  been  a- wondering  if  you  were  crazy,  and 
now  I  know  you  are." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  says  he,  "  that  is  just  what  they  cost." 

"  What !  thirty  thousand  dollars  ?  " 

"  Thirty  thousand  dollars." 


Randolph  Rogers  Bronze  Doors.  195 

I  bent  forward,  and  looked  at  the  door — close.  It  was  sunk 
deep  into  squares,  and  each  square  had  a  picture  of  men  and 
women  that  seemed  to  be  busy  at  something. 

"  What  is  it  all  about?  "  says  I. 

"  Every  picture  is  taken  from  something  .connected  with  the 
history  of  our  country,"  says  he. 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I.  "  Who  did  you  say  made  them 
all?" 

"Mr.  Rogers,  a  sculptor  from  Ohio.  One  of  the  great 
geniuses  of  the  age,  and  one  of  the  finest  fellows  that  ever 
breathed." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  I  got  acquainted  with  him  in  Florence, 
years  ago,  when  Elizabeth  and  I  went  to  Europe  on  our  wed 
ding  trip.  He  was  then  a  rising  man,  hard  at  work  on  the  art 
that  he  has  since  done  much  to  ennoble.  I  am  glad  to  see  his 
great  genius  embodied  here,  where  it  will  live  as  long  as  the 
marble  on  the  walls.  The  country  has  honored  itself  in  this 
almost  as  much  as  it  has  disgraced  itself  in  placing  some  of  the 
vilest  attempts  that  ever  parodied  art  in  conspicuous  places 
here." 

Cousin  Dempster's  face  turned  red  as  he  spoke — red  with 
shame,  I  could  see. 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  an  American,  who  understands  what 
real  art  is,  ashamed  of  his  country,"  says  he. 

"  But  what  do  they  do  it  for  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Because  two-thirds  of  the  members  sent  here  do  not  know 
a  picture  from  a  handsaw !  but  impudence  can  persuade,  and 
ignorance  can  vote.  Why,  I  once  heard  a  Member  of  Congress 
speak  of  the  statues  in  the  Vatican  as  coarse  and  clumsy  com 
pared  with  the  attempts  of  a  female  woman  who  could  not, 
out  of  her  own  talent,  have  moulded  an  apple-dumpling  into 
roundness." 

Cousin  Dempster  had  got  into  dead  earnest  now.  He  knew 
what  he  was  talking  about,  and  I  couldn't  help  feeling  for  him. 

"Some  day,  Cousin  Phoamie,"  says  he,  "I  will   take  you 


196  Randolpli  Rogers'  Bronze  Doors. 

round  and  show  you  the  abominations  which  have  been  set  up 
in  this  building — a  disgrace  both  to  the  taste  and  integrity  of 
the  nation.  You  will  understand  the  impudent  pretension  for 
which  our  people  have  been  taxed  in  order  that  the  National 
Capitol  may  be  made  a  laughing-stock  for  foreigners,  and  those 
Americans  who  are  compelled  to  blush  for  what  they  cannot 
help." 

"  Cousin  Dempster,"  says  I,  "  why  don't  the  press  take 
these  things  up  and  expose  them  ?  " 

t(  That  is  exactly  what  I  want,"  says  he.  "  It  is  for  that  very 
purpose  I  want  you  to  go  around  among  these  distorted  marbles 
and  things.  Your  lieports  may  do  some  good." 

"  But  I  don't  quite  understand  them  myself,"  says  I,  blush 
ing  a  little. 

"  Trust  genius  to  discover  genius,"  says  he.  "  You  could 
not  fail  to  see  faults  or  merits  where  they  existed.  All  the 
arts  are  kindred.  Poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  go  hand-in-hand. 
You  understood  the  beauty  that  lies  in  these  doors  at  a  glance." 

"  One  must  be  blind  not  to  see  that,"  says  I. 

"  Of  course ;  well,  cousin,  we  will  give  a  day  to  these  things 
before  we  go  home  ;  but  now,  hurry  forward,  or  we  shall  be  too 
late  to  see  the  House  open." 

"  Just  as  if  there  was  a  house  in  all  Washington  that  wouldn't 
open  for  us  if  we  chose  to  knock  or  ring,"  I  thought  to  myself, 
but  said  nothing,  for  Dempster  was  walking  off  like  a  steam- 
engine,  and  I  followed  down  one  long  hall,  and  up  another — all 
paved  with  bright-colored  stones — till  it  seemed  as  if  I  were 
walking  over  a  rock  carpet. 


Was  it  a  Meeting-house?  197 

XLYI. 

WAS    IT   A   MEETING-HOUSE? 

|EAR  SISTERS : — At  last  we  came  to  some  wide  marble 
stairs,  with  a  twist  in  the  middle,  and  they  led  us  into 
another  long  hall  with  a  stone  carpet,  out  of  which 
some  doors  covered  with  cloth  were  opening  and  shutting  all 
the  time  for  folks  to  go  through. 

Cousin  Dempster  swung  one  open  for  me,  and  I  went  into 
what  looked  like  a  meeting-house  gallery,  with  long  seats  a- 
running  all  around  it,  cushioned  off  with  red  velvet,  or  some 
thing.  Right  over  what  seemed  to  be  the  pulpit,  was  a  square 
gallery  by  itself,  which  I  took  for  the  singers'  seats,  but  it  was 
full  of  men — not  a  female  among  them — and  they  all  seemed 
busy  as  bees  laying  out  their  music  for  use. 

Cousin  E.  E.  was  sitting  near  this  gallery.  She  beckoned  to 
me,  so  I  went  in.  I  sat  down  by  her  and  whispered : 

"  I  didn't  know  we  were  coming  to  a  meeting.  Dempster 
never  said  a  word  about  it." 

"  Hush  !  "  says  she.     "  The  chaplain  is  going  to  pray." 

I  did  hush,  and  saw  the  congregation  come  in  and  walk  down 
the  aisles  and  take  their  seats.  Some  brought  books  that 
seemed  like  Bibles  under  their  arms ;  and  all  of  them  took  off 
their  hats,  as  was  proper. 

One  thing  struck  me  as  peculiar :  no  ladies  came  into  any 
place  but  the  galleries,  and  up  there  they  whispered  and 
laughed  in  a  way  that  made  my  blood  run  cold. 

By  and  by  a  man  came  in,  walked  down  the  broad  aisle,  and 
went  up  into  the  pulpit. 

Two  or  three  men  were  sitting  in  the  deacons'  seat,-  which 
ran  along  below  the  pulpit,  and  they  began  to  whisper  together 
— a  thing  I  didn't  like  in  the  deacons  of  a  church. 

The  minister  put  his  hands  together  beautifully.  The  con 
gregation  stood  up,  as  good  Presbyterians  ought  to  do,  and  I 


198  Was  it  a  Meeting- house? 

stood  up  too,  with  my  arms  folded,  and  bending  my  head  a 
little,  while  a  solemn  prayerfulness  crept  over  me  ;  but  the  next 
minute  I  dropped  both  arms  and  opened  both  eyes  wide. 

The  minister  was  coming  down  the  pulpit  stairs.  The  con 
gregation  sat  down.  The  deacons  each  took  up  a  pen — so  did 
the  singers,  who  hadn't  sung  a  note  yet. 

"What  does  this  mean?  "  I  whispered  to  Cousin  E.  E. 

"  The  prayer  is  over,"  says  she. 

"  Over !  "  says  I.  «'  Why,  the  minister  hadn't  begun  to  tell 
the  Lord  what  sinners  we  all  are." 

"  Oh !  "  says  she,  almost  laughing  out  in  meeting,  "  that 
would  be  too  heavy  work  for  one  man.  Only  think  how  much 
of  it  there  is  to  represent  in  this  place." 

11  Cousin,"  says  I,  "your  levity  in  this  sacred  place  shocks 
me." 

"  Sacred  place,"  says  she.  "  Oh,  Pho3mie,  you  will  be  the 
death  of  me." 

((  Have  you  no  regard  for  your  own  soul  ?  "  says  I,  in  an 
austere  whisper  that  ought  to  have  riled  up  the  depths  of  her 
conscience. 

"  My  soul,  indeed  !  "  says  she,  with  her  eyes  and  her  lips  all 
a-quivering  with  fun ;  "  as  if  people  ever  thought  of  such  things 
here." 

I  dropped  into  my  seat — her  sinful  levity  took  away  my 
breath. 

The  woman  absolutely  began  to  talk  out  loud,  and  didn't 
even  stop  when  a  man  got  up  in  the  congregation  and  began  to 
exhort.  In  the  distress  her  conduct  gave  me  I  did  not  hear 
just  what  he  said, "but  at  last  he  held  out  a  paper.  A  hand 
some  little  boy  came  up  and  carried  it  toward  the  pulpit  and 
gave  it  to  one  of  the  deacons. 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  thought  the  congregation  Presbyterians, 
but  the  boy  puzzled  me.  I  remembered  the  little  fellow  in  red 
at  that  High  Church  service,  and  thought  perhaps  the  good 
old  New  England  stand-by  meeting  had  got  some  of  these  new 
fangled  additions  to  their  board  of  deacons.  The  thought 


Was  it  a  Meeting-house?  199 

troubled  me,  but  not  so  much  as  the  conduct  of  that  congrega 
tion.  The  ladies  in  the  gallery  behaved  shamefully — I  must 
say  it.  They  whispered,  they  laughed,  they  flirted  their  fans 
and  flirted  with  their  lips  and  eyes.  Sometimes  they  turned 
their  backs  on  the  congregation  downstairs.  They  kept  mov 
ing  about  from  one  seat  to  another.  In  fact,  I  cannot  describe 
the  actions  of  these  females.  The  idea  of  piety  never  entered 
one  of  their  heads — I  am  sure  of  that. 

There  must  have  been  a  good  many  notices  and  publishments 
to  give  out ;  more  than  I  ever  heard  of  in  our  meeting-house, 
for  ever  so  many  papers  were  sent  up  to  the  pulpit,  where 
another  minister  sat  now  ready  to  begin  his  sermon. 

I  must  own  it,  there  was  some  confusion  among  the  con 
gregation  in  the  body  of  the  church.  The  members  moved 
about  more  than  was  decorous,  and  there  was  whispering 
a-going  on  there  as  well. 

In  Vermont  the  minister  would  have  rebuked  his  congrega 
tion — especially  the  flighty  females  around  me. 

I  was  saying  this  to  Cousin  E.  E.  when  that  man  in  the 
pulpit  took  up  a  little  wooden  hammer  that  lay  on  the  desk 
before  him,  and  struck  it  down  with  a  force  that  hushed  the 
whole  congregation  into  decency  at  once. 

I  was  glad  of  it,  and  in  my  innermost  heart  said  f(  Amen !  " 

By  and  by  a  man  got  up  to  exhort.  He  must  have  been 
brought  up  as  a  clerk  in  some  thread-needle  store,  I  should 
think,  by  the  way  he  measured  off  his  long,  rolling  sentences, 
that  seemed  to  come  through  the  bung-hole  of  an  empty  cider 
barrel ;  and  his  arms  went  spreading  out  with  each  sentence, 
as  if  he  were  measuring  tape,  and  meant  to  give  enough  of  it. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  says  I,  whispering  to  Cousin  E.  E. 

"  That,"  says  she,  "  is  a  gentleman  from ." 

"  No  doubt  he's  a  member,"  says  I ;  "  how  earnest  he  seeks 
for  protection  !  " 

"  Of  course  he  is  a  member  or  they  wouldn't  let  him  speak," 
whispers  she. 

"  I  know  that,"  says  I.     "  The  Presbyterians  don't  allow 


2OO  Was  it  a  Meeting-house f 

any  but  members  to  speak  in  their  meeting,  of  course  ;  but  it 
seems  to  me  they  do  a  great  deal  more  talking  than  praying 
here,  or  singing  either." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  believe  any  one  but  the  chaplain  ever  thinks 
of  praying  here,  and  he  cuts  it  short  as  pie-crust." 

"  Don't  be  irreverent,"  says  I. 

Cousin  E.  E.  got  up  from  her  seat ;  so  did  Dempster. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about  salt." 

lt  Especially  if  the  salt  has  lost  its  savor,"  says  I,  hoping  to 
draw  both  their  thoughts  to  the  Scriptures,  and  get  them  in  a 
proper  frame  of  mind  for  the  occasion. 

"The  tax  is  what  I  want  it  to  lose,"  says  he,  and  I  saw 
by  his  manner  that  thoughts  of  humility  and  prayer  were 
far  from  him ;  so,  rather  than  join  in  this  mockery  of  holy 
things,  I  followed  him  out  of  that  beautiful  and  sacred  edifice, 
softened,  and,  I  hope,  made  better  by  the  service  in  which  my 
vsoul  had  joined. 

"  Well,"  says  Cousin  Dempster,  when  we  stood  once  more 
on  the  stone  carpet  of  the  hall,  "  how  did  you  like  the  House  ?  " 

" What  house?"  says  I. 

"  The  House  of  Representatives,  to  be  sure,"  says  he. 

t(  When  I  have  seen  it,  I  can  tell  you  better,"  says  1. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  you  have  seen  it,"  says  he,  "  in  full  session, 
too." 

"Look  a-here,  cousin,"  says  I;  "all  this  morning  you've 
been  talking  about  old  houses  and  new  houses,  as  if  this  heap 
of  marble  was  a  green,  with  buildings  all  round  it.  I've  seen 
the  place  you  call  a  rotunda — halls,  with  scrumptious  stone 
carpets  on  them,  and  as  fine  a  meeting-house  as  Solomon  need 
have  wanted.  Now,  if  you  want  to  show  me  that  house  where 
the  Representatives  meet,  do  it,  and  no  more  parsonizing 
about  it." 

"But,  cousin,  I  do  assure  you,  we  have  just  come  from  it. 
You  have  heard  the  members  speaking." 

"  I  have  seen  a  meeting-house,  and  worshipped  in  it,"  says  I. 

"  Are  you  really  in  earnest  ?  "  says  he. 


Easter. '  201 

"  Would  I,  the  member  of  a  church,  trifle  on  a  sacred  sub 
ject?"  says  I. 

"  Oh !  "  says  Cousin  Dempster,  a-leaning  his  back  against 
the  marble  wall — "  oh !  hold  me,  or  I  shall  laugh  myself  to 
death." 

I  wish  he  had.     There  ! 


XLVIL 

EASTER. 

DEAR  SISTERS  :— Christmas  isn't  a  New  England 
institution,  and  High  Churches  are  not  indigenous  to 
the  Down  East  soil.  The  Pilgrim  Fathers  took  a  notion 
against  that  species  of  holidays,  and  their  descendants  were 
forbidden  by  law  to  make  mince-pies  and  such  like,  in  celebra 
tion  of  that  particular  day.  In  fact,  Christmas  was  turned  out 
of  meeting,  and  Thanksgiving  adopted  in  its  place.  As  for 
High  Churches,  in  the  good  old  times  there  wasn't  a  steeple  to 
be  seen.  The  meeting-houses  were  spread  out  on  the  ground, 
roofed  in  like  barns,  and  quartered  off  inside  into  square  pews, 
like  a  cake  of  gingerbread.  The  only  thing  that  looked  like  a 
steeple  in  those  days  was  the  minister,  when  he  stood  up  to 
pray.  Sometimes  he  leaned  a  trifle  backward  to  let  the  con 
gregation  see  that  there  was  no  chance  that  he  would  ever  bow 
down  to  that  old  English  Church,  against  which  the  dust  from 
his  feet  had  been  shaken. 

The  deacons  ranged  in  that  long  seat  under  the  pulpit,  with 
iron-clad  faces  and  hearts,  that  had  grown  rocky  in  their  up 
rightness,  were  such  men  as  you  don't  meet  often  nowadays. 
They  not  only  shook  the  dust  from  their  feet  against  the  Church 
of  England,  but  scattered  a  good  deal  on  the  Quakers  and  other 
sects  that  crept  in  from  the  Old  "World,  with  an  idea  that  they 
might  have  a  sneaking  notion  of  their  own  where  trees  were  so 


2O2  Easter. 

thick  and  men  so  upright ;  but  you  and  I  know  they  found  out 
their  mistake. 

Our  blessed  old  forefathers  sought  Christian  toleration  for 
themselves  when  they  came  into  the  wilderness,  not  for  any 
body  else.  They  knew  exactly  which  was  the  shortest  way  to 
Heaven,  and  meant  that  other  people  should  follow  it  straight 
up. 

Having  cast  off  the  old  Church  of  England,  and  sang  Thanks 
giving  hymns  on  Plymouth  Rock — which  after  all,  sisters, 
wasn't  much  of  a  rock  to  brag  of  as  to  ske — of  course  our 
forefathers  weren't  likely  to  drag  any  of  the  worn-out  institu 
tions  along  with  them,  so,  as  I  haye  said,  they  dropped  Christ 
mas,  set  their  faces  against  steeples,  turned  their  altars  into 
cherry-wood  communion  tables,  clad  their  souls  in  iron,  and 
New  England  was  purified  from  the  dross  of  the  Old  World. 

This  is  why  Christmas  amounts  to  nothing  among  us. 

New  England  has  always  been  an  independent  part  of  the 
United  States.  The  footprints  of  the  Puritans  are  not  quite 
worn  out  yet,  and  in  turning  our  back  on  saints  and  such,  we 
have  nigh  about  forgotten  that  our  part  of  the  country  had 
anything  to  be  thankful  for,  except  a  fine  grain  harvest  and 
abounding  hay  crop. 

Well,  not  knowing  much  about  Christmas,  sisters,  you  will 
be  glad  to  hear  something  about  Easter,  which  comes  at  the 
end  of  Lent,  and  is  a  time  of  rejoicing  in  this  city,  I  can  tell 
you.  Let  me  explain : 

Lent  is  a  wonderful  still  time  among  the  church  people  who 
are  given  to  fish  and  eggs,  and  morning  service  for  weeks  and 
weeks  while  it  lasts.  But  the  last  three  days  are  what  I  want 
to  tell  you  about ;  for  during  the  time  when  hard-boiled  eggs 
are  so  much  the  fashion,  Cousin  E.  E.  and  myself  were  in 
Washington,  where  people  rest  a  little  from  parties,  and  eat  a 
good  many  oysters  in  a  serious  way,  but  could  no  more  get  up 
a  regular  Easter  jubilee  than  they  could  tell  where  the  money 
goes  to  that  ought  to  build  up  the  Washington  monument,  but 
don't. 


Easter.  203 

No ;  Cousin  E.  E.,  who  keeps  getting  higher  and  higher  in 
her  church  notions,  was  determined  to  spend  her  Easter  at 
home. 

"  Easter  !  what  does  that  mean  ?  "  I  seem  to  hear  you  say. 
"  Is  it  a  woman,  or  was  it  named  after  one  ?  Is  it — " 

Stop,  sisters,  that  question  is  too  much  for  me ;  I  don't 
know.  Wasn't  there  a  handsome  woman  of  the  Jewish  per 
suasion  who  put  on  her  good  clothes  and  came  round  the  king, 
her  husband,  when  her  relations  were  all  kept  out  of  office,  or 
something  of  that  kind  ?  Perhaps  this  Easter  is  named  after 
her;  but  then  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  names  weren't  just  the 
same.  Anyway,  the  three  days  they  call  Easter  mean  a  solemn 
thing  that  we  haven't  thought  enough  of  in  our  parts,  up  to 
this  time. 

It  means  those  three  days  when  our  Lord  lay  in  the  tomb. 
The  first  day,  sisters,  is  held  in  remembrance  of  a  death  that 
was  meant  to  make  men  holy.  That  was  suffered  for  you  and 
me.  It  is  called  Good  Friday,  and  a  great  many  people  in 
these  parts  hold  it  as  the  most  solemn  day  of  all  the  year.  I 
think  it  is.  My  own  heart  bows  itself  in  dumb  reverence  as 
the  thought  of  all  it  means  settles  down  upon  me.  I  wonder 
that  so  many  years  of  my  life  have  gone  by  without  giving  the 
day  a  thought.  Surely,  sisters,  Christ  did  not  die  for  the 
Catholics  and  Episcopalians  alone. 

Well,  sisters,  I  did  not  mean  to  preach  or  exhort  out  of 
season,  but  my  heart  has  been  touched,  and  out  of  its  fulness 
I  have  spoken. 

"  Are  we  a-going  to  your  High  Church  ?  "  says  I  to  Cousin 
E.  E.  when  she  came  to  my  room  Friday  morning,  and  asked 
if  I  was  ready. 

"No,"  says  she  ;  " even  that  does  not  reach  my  ideas  of  what 
is  due  to  the  occasion.  We  will  go  still  higher — to  St.  Ste 
phen's." 

"  Catholic,  isn't  it  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  with  a  sigh,  "  the  Mother  Church.  You 
will,  at  least,  be  interested." 


204  A   Church  Higher   Yet. 

"  I  never  was  in  a  Catholic  meeting-house,"  says  I,  <c  but 
to-dc^y  I  feel  like  worshipping  anywhere,  cold  as  it  is." 

"  Not  so  cold  as  our  Lord's  tomb,"  says  she,  shivering  a 
little. 

I,  too,  felt  cold  chills  a-creeping  over  me. 

"  Come,"  she  says,  "  it.  is  time." 


XLVIII. 

A    CHURCH   HIGHER   YET. 

jISTERS,  we  never  spoke  a  word  all  the  way  to  St. 
Stephen's  Church,  which  is  not  a  mite  higher,  and 
not  near  so  handsome  as  a  good  many  other  meet 
ing-houses  we  had  to  pass.  A  crowd  of  people  were  going  in, 
and  we  followed  into  the  darkness  ;  for  the  whole  space  was  full 
of  gloom,  like  a  foggy  sunset.  Here  and  there  lights  shone  out 
like  stars  in  a  cloud,  just  enough  to  make  the  gloom  strike 
home.  The  church  was  shaped  like  a  cross,  and  had  more  than 
one  altar  in  it.  That  which  stood  at  the  head  of  the  broad 
aisle  had  just  lights  enough  around  it  to  make  its  whiteness 
ghostly,  and  to  tremble  over  a  great  picture  back  of  it,  where 
figures  in  some  harrowing  scene  seemed  to  come  and  go  in  the 
foggy  air. 

Yes,  the  air  was  foggy  and  thick,  with  sweet-smelling  smoke, 
that  came  from  some  brass  lamps  a  couple  of  little  boys  were  a 
swinging  back  and  forth  by  chains  linked  to  them ;  and  there, 
standing  right  in  front  of  the  altar,  was  a  man  all  draped  out 
in  black  robes,  and  a  white  overdress,  praying.  Sisters,  it  was 
awful  solemn ;  I  couldn't  but  just  keep  from  sobbing  right 
out. 

"  Look  !  "  says  E.  E. ;  "  isn't  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin  beauti 
ful  ?  " 


A  Church  Higher   Yet.  20$ 

I  did  look ;  and  there  at  my  left  stood  an  altar  covered  with 
flowers,  and  blazing  with  lights  starting  up  like  a  crown  of 
glory  through  the  darkness. 

"  Why  is  that  altar  so  bright,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  meet 
ing-house  is  almost  dark  ?  "  I  whispers  to  E.  E. 

"  That  is  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin,  and  there  lies  the  body 
of  Christ." 

II  The  body  of  Christ !  "  says  I,  with  a  start. 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  bowing  her  head.  "  You  cannot  see  it,  for 
the  flowers  cover  it,  as  we  strew  them  over  the  graves  of  those 
we  love ;  but  the  holy  body  of  our  Lord  is  there,  waiting  for 
the  resurrection." 

"  Waiting  for  the  resurrection  !  "  says  I.  "  How  can  you 
say  that,  E.  E.,  when  our  Lord  was  resurrected  almost  nineteen 
hundred  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  says  she,  shaking  her  head  and  whispering,  "  that 
was  so ;  but  the  body  of  Christ  is  there  this  minute,  under  the 
flowers." 

"Cousin  E.  E.,  are  you  crazy?  Do  you  believe  that  in 
earnest  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  says  she  a-folding  her  hands  and  dropping  down  her 
head. 

"  But  how— how  can  it  be  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  explain,  dear  cousin ;  but  it  is  so.  It  is,  in 
deed." 

"  E.  E.,  are  yon  a  Roman  Catholic  ? — do  they  believe  that  ?  " 

"  Every  one  of  'em." 

"  And  are  you  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  v 

"  Not  yet,"  says  she ;  "  you  know  well  enough  that  I  belong 
to  the  Episcopal  Church  ;  but  my  pilgrimage  is  not  ended." 

Cousin  E.  E.  bent  her  head  and  spoke  low.  I  felt  the  old 
Pilgrim  blood  rile  in  me ;  but  just  as  I  was  a-going  to  speak 
again,  a  low,  mournful  noise  went  a-rolling  through  the  meeting- 
ing-house,  that  chilled  me  down  like  ice-water.4*  It  came  from 
behind  the  great  white  altar,  which  looked  to  me  like  a  big 
tombstone  with  night-fog  floating  over  it.  Through  the  fog  I 


206  Easter  Sunday. 

saw  two  rows  of  wooden  seats,  with  high  backs ;  and  in  them 
sat  men,  all  in  black  and  white  clothes,  singing  dismally.  No 
— it  wasn't  singing,  and  it  wasn't  reading ;  but  a  long,  rolling 
drawl,  in  which  a  few  tones  of  music  seemed  buried  and  were 
pleading  to  get  out.  With  this  dreary  sound,  came  the  sobs 
and  mournful  shivers  of  the  cold  wind  outside,  which  made  my 
blood  creep. 

It  was  too  much  ;  I  could  not  bear  it.  Tears  came  into  my 
eyes  -like  drops  of  ice ;  I  felt  preceding  shivers  creeping  up  my 
arms. 

"  Do  let's  go  home — I  feel  dreadfully,"  says  I,  catching  hold 
of  Cousin  E.  E.'s  dress. 

lc  Wait,"  says  she,  (l  till  they  have  done  chanting  the  Psalms." 

I  couldn't  help  it;  but  sunk  down  on  my  knees,  covered  my 
face  with  both  hands,  and  let  that  awful  music  roll  over  me. 
It  seemed  like  a  call  to  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

At  last  the  sound  died  off;  the  wind  outside  took  it  up 
dolefully,  and  seemed  to  call  us  out  into  the  cold  air.  We 
went,  feeling  like  ghosts,  and  never  spoke  a  word  all  the  way 
home.  How  could  we,  with  that  awful  feeling  creeping  over 
us? 


XLIX. 

EASTER    SUNDAY. 

IjEAK  SISTERS :— It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  never  could 
go  into  that  Catholic  meeting-house  again;  but  when 
Sunday  came,  E.  E.  got  up  so  cherk  and  bright,  that 
I  couldn't  say  "  No  "  when  she  wanted  me  to  start  with  her 
to  St.  Stephen's  meeting-house. 

"You  will  Hear  no  more  crying  and  sobbing,"  says  she, 
<f  everything  will  be  bright  and  beautiful ;  no  more  penitential 
psalms ;  no  more  darkness.  Christ  has  risen  !  " 


Easter  Sunday.  207 

My  heart  rose  and  swelled,  like  a  frozen  apple  thrown  into 
hot  water,  when  I  got  into  the  meeting.  It  was  raining  like 
fury  out  of  doors,  but  inside  everything  blazed  with  glory. 
The  great  white  altar  flashed  and  flamed  with  snow-white  can 
dles,  bunched  like  stars  in  tall  candlesticks,  branched  off  with 
gold.  Two  great  candles,  as  thick  as  your  waist,  burned  like 
pillars  of  snow  afire  inside,  on  each  side  of  the  steps.  Up 
amongst  the  golden  candlesticks  were  two  square  Maltese 
crosses_like  the  cross  we  are  used  to,  only  one  end  is  cut  off 
short  to  match  the  others— all  of  white  flowers,  with  just  a 
little  red  at  the  tips,  as  if  a  few  drops  of  innocent  blood  had 
stained  them.  Then  there  were  beautiful  half-moons  made  of 
milk-white  flowers  lying  on  beds  of  purple  flowers,  but  there 
was  no  other  color  on  that  altar. 

On  an  altar  which  I  had  not  seen  in  the  darkness,  when  I 
was  there  before,  a  lamb— as  large  as  life,  made  out  of  flowers 
so  white  that  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  have  grown  in  heaven 

itself stood  among  the  lights  that  shone,  like  crowded  stars, 

out  from  behind  it.  Across  its  shoulders  this  lamb  carried  a 
cross  so  blood-red,  that  it  chilled  me  through  and  through. 

Above  this  altar  hung  a  great  cross  six  feet  high,  which 
seemed  to  float  in  the  air.  It  was  made  of  gas-drops  that 
quivered  into  each  other,  and  struck  out  colors  that  the  fire 
seemed  to  have  drank  up  from  the  flowers,  and  turned  into 
light  that  was  glorious. 

Over  this  cross  floated  a  crown  of  fire,  that  seemed  to  trem 
ble  and  shake  with  every  gust  of  air,  as  if  it  had  just  floated 
down  from  heaven,  and,  meeting  the  cross,  hovered  over  it. 

I  had  but  just  time  enough  to  see  all  this,  when  from  the 
other  side  of  the  great  altar,  came  a  lot  of  boys,  walking  two 
and  two,  with  white  shoes  on  their  feet,  and  white  dresses — 
I  should  have  called  them  frocks  if  it  had  been  girls  that  wore 

them all    fastened  with    crimson   buttons,  and  crimson  silk 

scarfs  were  thrown  across  their  shoulders.  Then  came  a  lot 
more,  dressed  in  scarlet  frocks  and  white  shoes  ;  and  after  them 
another  class  in  white,  with  purple  scarfs  across  their  shoulders. 


208  Easter  Sunday. 

These  boys— they  were  real  handsome  little  fellows— stood 
themselves  around  the  altar.  Then  caine  two  men,  all  in 
black  and  white,  and  after  them  four  others,  dressed  like 
kings  and  princes,  all  in  scarlet  and  gold,  and  lace  and  precious 
stones.  • 

These  men  knelt  down  on  the  steps  of  the  altar.  Then  every 
body  in  the  meeting-house  knelt  too.  After  a  few  minutes 
they  got  up,  and  out  from  somewhere  in  the  meeting-house,  a 
low  roar  of  music  burst  over  us,  and  with  it  came  a  rush  of 
voices  singing  out,  "  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us  !  Lord,  have 
mercy  on  us. " 

Then  there  was  a  lull,  and  after  that  a  whole  torrent  of 
gushing  music,  with  an  undertone  of  rolling  sounds,  and  out 
of  the  noise  came  these  words  that  seemed  to  catch  up  one's 
heart  and  fly  away  with  it : 

<c  Glory  to  God  on  high,  peace  and  good- will  to  men  !  " 
Oh,  how  this  rush  of  sound  rose  and  swelled,  and  glorified 
itself !     It  seemed  as  if  you  could  see  Christ  rising  from  the 
sepulchre,  and  all  the  angels  of  heaven  rejoicing  over  it. 

Then  came  more  music.  I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  was 
like,  only  it  made  my  heart  stir  and  throb,  as  if  it  wanted  to 
break  loose  and  mount  upwards,  singing  as  it  went. 

At  last  a  low  voice  sung,  all  alone,  clear  and  high  as  a  bird 
in  the  air.  After  that,  deep,  deep  silence  settled  on  the  whole 
congregation,  and  everybody  dropped  down  on  their  knees. 
Then  one  of  the  men  in  scarlet  and  gold  went  a  step  higher  on 
the  altar,  and  took  from  it  a  gold  cup,  which  he  held  high  up 
in  one  hand.  Out  of  this  cup  he  lifted  a  round  thing  that 
looked  more  like  a  cracker  than  anything  else,  and  held  it  up 
between  his  thumb  and  finger.  I  was  going  to  ask  E.  E.  what 
it  \7as  all  about,  but  she  was  bending  forward,  with  her  face 
almost  on  the  floor,  and  everybody  around  us  was  taking  an 
extra  kneel,  which  I  did  not  understand.  Everything  kept 
still,  the  congregation  bent  close  to  the  floor,  and  everybody 
seemed  to  be  thinking  to  themselves  for  as  much  as  ten 
minutes.  Then  the  whole  congregation  lifted  its  head.  The 


Easter  Sunday.  209 

boys  in  red  and  white  frocks  swung  the  brass  lamps,  which 
sent  clouds  of  sweet,  white  smoke  up  amongst  the  flowers,  and 
out  camo  another  burst  of  music,  louder,  sweeter,  and  more 
triumphant  than  anything  I  had  heard  yet.  It  just  carried  me 
right  off  from  my  feet. 

After  this,  one  of  the  crimson  and  gold  men  on  the  altar 
turned  round,  and  spread  out  his  arms.  Two  others  caught 
hold  of  his  dress,  and  held  it  out  on  each  side,  and  dropped  it 
again.  The  boys  in  white  and  scarlet  and  purple  made  them 
selves  into  double  lines,  and  walked  out  of  the  door  they  came 
in  by.  The  leading  scarlet  and  gold  man  took  the  gold  cup  in 
his  hands,  and  followed  after,  and  the  other  men  in  their  spark 
ling  dresses— with  those  two  in  black  and  white— walked  be 
side  and  behind  him  while  he  carried  it  out. 

There  was  a  little  stir  in  the  congregation  after  this,  but  by 
and  by  the  man  who  had  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  altar  and 
carried  out  the  cup,  came  back  in  another  dress,  and  went  up 
into  a  little  cubby-house  of  a  pulpit,  where  he  preached  a  beau 
tiful  sermon,  which  I  didn't  understand  a  word  of,  and  then 
Easter  was  over  in  that  church. 

When  we  got  out  of  church  I  felt  like  a  bird  with  its  wings 
spread  out  wide.  It  was  raining  like  Jehu,  but  I  didn't  care  for 
that;  the  music,  the  flowers,  the  bursts  of  light  had  made  me 
feel  like  another  creature.  Even  the  stormy  sky  looked  splen 
did.  But  when  we  got  home,  I  began  to  think  over  what  I 
had  seen  and  heard,  and  as  soon  as  Cousin  E.  E.  seemed  to  feel 
like  talking,  I  put  a  few  questions  to  her. 

"  Cousin,"  says  I,  "  who  were  the  men  that  came  out  there, 
all  glistening  with  gold  and  things,  and  stood  on  the  steps  of 
the  altar  ?  " 

"  Them  ?     Why,  they  were  the  priests." 
"  Oh  !     And  the  one  who  held  that  cup  in  his  hand — wasn't 
he  something  a  little  more  particular  than  the  rest  ?  " 
'«  He  was  the  arch-priest." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  But  what;  was  that  round  thing  he 
lifted  out  of  the  cup?" 


210  Easter  Sunday. 

"  That  ?     Why,  Phcemie,  that  was  the  Host !  " 
"  There  was  a  host  of  people  on  the  floor,  of  course ;  but  I 
mean  the  little  thing  he  held  up  between  his  thumb  and  fin 
ger?" 

"  That?  "  says  Cousin  E.  E.,  a-lifting  up  both  hands,  as  if 
I'd  done  something  dreadful.     «  That  is  the  holy  wafer." 
"  The  what,  Cousin  E.  E.  ?  " 
"  The  body  of  our  Saviour." 

"  Oh,  cousin,  how  can  you  ?  "  says  I,  a-feeling  myself  grow 
cold  all  over. 

"  It  is  so,  Phoemie.  As  yet  you  may  not  understand  the 
mystery,  but  in  time  you  will  see  it." 

I  couldn't  answer  her,  she  was  in  such  solemn  earnest ;  but 
then  and  there  I  made  up  niy  mind  that  we  should  have  to 
talk  over  that  matter  in  earnest  before  long,  for  I  felt  the  Pil 
grim  blood  riling  up  in  my  bosom. 

"  Do  Episcopalians  believe  that  ?  "  says  I. 
"  Those  that  take  a  high  stand  do,"  says  she. 
"  Well,"  says  I,  "  we  won't  talk  that  over  just  now.     But 
whose  boys  were  those  that  swung  the  lamps  and  stood  round 
the  altar  ?  " 

"  Oh,  those  were  the  acolytes." 

"  Any  relations  to  the  boys  we  saw  at  morning  service  ?  " 
says  I. 

"  Oh,  they  are  all  the  same." 

"  Mercy  on  me !  "  says  I ;  «  what  a  large  family  of  boys— 
and  so  near  of  an  age,  too !  " 

E.  E.  lifted  her  head  and  gave  me  the  ghost  of  a  smile— that 
was  all.  I  believe  she  felt  that  talking  was  a  sin  just  then, 
and  I  felt  a  little  that  way  myself. 

"  That  music  was  splendid,"  says  I,  «  and  the  flowers.  I 
don't  think  I  ever  was  in  any  meeting-house  that  seemed  so 
close  to  heaven.  But  then  I  always  had  a  hankering  after  sucli 
things.  And  why  not?  If  God  gives  us  music  and  flowers, 
light  and  sweet  odors,  can  it  be  wrong  to  render  them  back  to 


That  Man  with  the  Lantern.  211 

him?     Cousin,  I  never  knew  what  power  there  was  in  such 

*3ffi7W.  sne-nd  a  queer  smile  came  over  he,  face 
_«  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  go  back,  at  last,  a  High  Church 

-" 


ness  I  hope,  cousin,  that  I  join  toleration.  It  seems  to  me 
that  our  Pilgrim  Fathers  made  a  mistake  when  they  expected 
111  mankind  to  think  with  them,  and  another  nustake  when 
they  put  aside  the  holiest  and  most  solemnly  beaut  ful  days 
all  the  year-those  upon  which  our  blessed  Lord  was  born, 
suffered,  and  ascended  into  heaven. 


THAT  MAN  WITH  THE  LANTEKN. 

HEAR  SISTERS:— I  am  back  in  Washington.    So  is 
Cousin  E.  E.  and  Dempster,  who  has  got  a  case  befc 
Congress ;  and  when  a  man  has  that  he  just  makes  up 
d  to  Uke  permanent  lodgings  in  a  sleeping-car,  a 
make  his  home  by  daytime  in  a  railroad  section. 

You  never  saw  anything  like  the  hurry  in  which  such  me 
live     As  for  the  married  ones,  their  wives  scarcely  see  then 
at   all   unless  they  catch  'em  flying  with  a  railroad  ticket  in 
one  hand,  and  a  carpet-bag,  swelled  out  like  an  apple- 

in  the  other. 

To  us  women  this  kind  of  life  is  tantalizing— very. 

When  Cousin  D.  came  up  from  Wall  Street,  all  in  a  fume, 
and   says  he:    "Come,   ladies,   if  you've   a    mind  to  go 
Washington,  just  pack  up  and  get  your   things,     we 


212  That  Man  with  the  Lantern. 

rushed  into  the  street  like  crazy  creatures,  and  came  back 
with  our  pockets  crammed,  and  our  hands  full  of  hair- 
pins,  bits  of  ribbon,  lengths  of  lace,  and  so  on.  These  we 
huddled  into  our  trunks  the  last  thing,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and 
said  we're  ready,  half  scared  to  death  with  fear  that  D.  might  cut 
short  the  hour  he  has  been  kind  enough  to  give  us,  and  start 
off  alone— a  thing  he  was  just  as  like  to  do  as  not,  being  a  man. 
It's  astonishing  how  much  can  really  be  done  in  an  hour. 
When  our  time  was  up  we  had  five  minutes  to  spare,  and  sat 
with  our  satchels  in  our  laps,  waiting  for  Cousin  D. 

This  time,  being  with  E.   E.,  I  just  said  nothing,  but  let 
things  drift,  which,  after  all,  is  about  the  easiest  way  to  get 
along.     Instead  of  going  in  among  the  easy-chairs,  as  we  did 
before,  they  took  me  into  the  sleeping-car,  which  is  a  great  long 
affair,  with  what  we  call  bunks,  in  our  parts,  made  lengthwise 
on  each  side,  with  a  narrow  hall  running  between.     The  bunks 
had  curtains,  and  looked  ship-shape  when  they  were  once  made 
up ;  but  it  was  funny  enough  to  see  great  tall  men  spreading 
sheets  and  patting  down  pillows  for  female  women  to  sleep  on! 
Cousin  E.  E.  and  I  had   a  little  mahogany  pen,  with  two 
bunks  in  it,  which  is  considered  extra  genteel,  and  we  went  to 
bed,  first  one  and  then  the  other,  not  having  room  enough  for 
more  than  one  to  undress  at  a  time.     When  our  clothes  were 
hung  up,  and  we  inside  the  bunks,  the  pen  was  choke  full, 
and  off  we  rattled,  with  a  jounce  now  and  then  that  made  you 
catch  your  breath.     It  was  like  sleeping  in  a  cradle,  with  some 
great  hard-footed  nurse  rocking  you  in  a  broken  trot. 

I  had  just  begun  to  get  to  sleep,  when  what  do  you  think 
happened  ? 

The  door  was  pushed  open,  and  a  man  looked  in.     I  started 
up,  riled  to  the  depths  of  my  woman's  soul.     Never  before, 
since  I  was  a  nursing  baby,  had  any  man  looked  on  my  face 
after  it  was  laid  on  my  pillow. 
What  did  the  creature  mean  ? 

I  scrouched  down  in  the  bunk,  pulling  the  sheet  over  my 
head,  and  peeped  through  an  opening,  half  scared  to  death. 


That  Man  with  the  Lantern.  213 

That  man  had  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  a  dark  lantern,  with  the 
fire  all  on  one  side.  It  glared  into  my  bed  like  a  wicked  eye. 

«  What,  oh,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  says  I.  «  Remember,  we 
are  two  innocent  females  that  seem  to  be  unprotected,  but  we 
have  a  gentleman  outside-a  strong,  tall,  powerful  man.  Ad 
vance  another  step  and  I  scream." 

The  man  opened  his  mouth  to  speak ;  his  one-eyed 
glared  upon  me ;  he  smiled  as  if  overflowing  with  good 

tendons. 

«  Go  away,"  says  I,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  command 
under  the  bedclothes,  «  or  if  it  is  my  purse  you  want,  take  it ; 
but  take  that  evil  eye  from  my  countenance." 

The  man  took  the  little  pocket-book  from  my  trembling  han 
he  opened  it  with  cold-blooded  slowness,  took  out  a  long  strip  of 
printed  paper  Cousin  Dempster  had.told  me  to  take  care  of,  and 
tore  it  in  two  before  my  face.  Then  he  put  one  of  the  pieces 
back,  while  I  lay  shaking  and  being  shook  till  the  teeth  chat 
tered  in  my  head. 

«  Spare  me,"  says  I,  with  the  plaintive  wail  of  a  her 
«  Take  all  I   have,  pocket-book   and   all,  but,  oh,  spare  me ; 

spare  me  !  " 

He  held  my  pockef-book  towards  me.  I  shivered,  I  shru 
my  hand  crept  forth  like  a  poor  timid  mouse,  and  darted  back 

again. 

The   man— this   stealthy  railway  burglar— seemed 
with  compassion.      My  helpless  innocence  had  evidently  made 
an  impression  even  on  his  hardened  nature  ;  he  laid  the  pocb 
book  gently  on  the  pillow,  and  modestly  turned  his  one-eyed 
lantern  away,  pitying  my  confusion,  and  feeling,  as  any  man 
with  a  heart  in  his  bosom  must,  that  I  was  scared  out  of  a 
week's  growth. 

I  breathed  again.      My  heart  swelled  with  thankfulness  tl 
a  great  danger  was  passed.     I  pushed  back  the  blankets,  and 
looked  out  while  a  timid  shudder  crept  over  me. 

The  man  was  there  yet,  stooping  down  to  Cousin  E.  E.'s 
bunk.     I  heard  paper  rustle.     Had  he  spared  me  to  rob  her? 


214  That  Man  with  the  Lantern. 

Why  didn't  she  scream?     Why  didn't  she  command  the  creat 
ure  to  leave  her  presence  ? 

Robbery  was  nothing,  but  that  cool  way  of  breaking  in  upon 
two  sleeping  females  had  the  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast  in  it. 
Was  he  killing  my  cousin — smothering  her  with  pillows  so 
that  she  could  not  scream  out  ?  The  thought  drove  me  frantic. 
My  arms  were  goose-pimpled  like  a  grater. 

"  Why  don't  you  order  him  out  ?  Why  don't  you  scream 
for  Dempster  ?  "  says  I,  feeling  a  thrill  of  hysterics  creeping 
over  me.  <*  If  you  don't,  I  must. 

"  All  right,"  says  the  burglarious  wretch,  giving  us  the  dark 
side  of  his  lantern,  and  slamming  the  door.  Then  all  was 
mournfully  still.  I  half  rose  and  leaned  over  my  bunk,  pale, 
breathless. 

"  Oh,  cousin !  speak  to  me  if  you  are  alive, "  I  pleaded. 

"  What  is  it ;  what  is  the  matter,  Phoemie  ?  "  says  a  sleepy 
voice  from  below. 

"  Ah,  thank  Heaven,  you  are  alive !  "  I  cried,  a-clasping  my 
hands  in  a  sweet  ecstasy  of  gratitude.  "  Did  he  attempt  to 
strangle  you  ?  " 

"He.     Who?" 

1  Why,  that  man.  That  prowling  monster,  with  the  one- 
eyed  lantern !  " 

"  Oh,  he  only  wanted  my  ticket ;  he  meant  no  harm,"  says 
she,  more  than  half  asleep. 

I  drew  back  into  my  bunk,  and  let  her  go  to  sleep.  Igno 
rance  is  bliss.  She  felt  safe,  and  I  left  her.  Why  should  I 
disturb  her  innocent  rest  with  the  knowledge  that  a  railroad 
she  trusted  in  was  infested  through  and  through  with  brigand- 
ation.  If  she  knew  the  truth,  I  was  certain  that  E.  E.  would 
never  be  coaxed  or  reasoned  into  travelling  again,  so  I  deter 
mined  to  keep  a  still  tongue,  and  never  mention  this  attempt  at 
burglary  again  to  any  human  creature. 

I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  one  thing,  thougn.  Phcemie 
Frost  will  never  travel  again  without  a  pistol  under  her  pillow. 
What  good  object  can  any  man  have  in  smashing  into  the  mid- 


Mrs:  Grant's  Reception.  21$ 

night  dreams  of  two  innocent  females,  and  wanting  to  examine 
their  pocket-books?  I  tremble  to  think  what  the  feelings  of 
the  great  Grand  Duke  would  be  if  he  had  heard  of  the  ter 
rible  danger  I  have  been  in. 

Of  course  I  never  closed  my  eyes  again  till  the  long  train  of 
cars  crept  like  a  great  trailing  snake  into  the  depot  at  Wash 
ington. 


LI. 


Washington  is  splendid  just  now.  In  New 
York  the  winter  seems  to  have  frozen  up  all  the  sap 
in  the  trees ;  not  a  bud  on  the  limbs,  not  a  tinge  of 
green  even  on  the  willows,  which  are  the  trees  of  all  others 
that  give  out  their  greenness  first  in  the  spring,  and  keep  it 
latest  in  the  fall.  The  trees  that  grow  in  the  Park  were 
brown  and  naked  when  we  left  the  city. 

Here  the  buds  are  a-s welling.  The  willow-trees  are  feathered 
over  with  leaves  as  soft  and  pale  as  the  down  on  a  gosling's 
breast.  The  beech-trees  are  covered  over  with  soft,  downy 
buds,  that  float  on  the  air  like  full-grown  caterpillars.  Even 
the  ragged  old  button-balls  are  shooting  out  leaves  like  sixty, 
and  the  young  trees  at  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  and  the  old 
ones  below  the  Capitol  of  the  nation,  are  bursting  into  green 
ness,  while  the  grass  seems  to  spring  up  fresh  in  your  path  as 
you  walk  along. 

I  declare  it  is  a  satisfactisn  to  breathe  the  air  which  is  kissing 
so  many  buds  and  flowers  open ;  and  I  feel  sort  of  guilty  in 
doing  it,  when  I  know  that  the  hollows  around  Sprucehill  are 
choked  up  with  dead  leaves,  if  not  with  drifted  snow,  and  it 
will  be  weeks  yet  before  the  maple-sap  will  take  to  running. 

Nature  is  an  institution  that  I  hope  I  shall  always  be  fond 


216  Mrs.  Grant's  Reception. 

of  and  appreciate ;  but  men  and  women  are,  after  all,  the 
noblest  work  of  a  beneficent  Creator,  and,  from  the  delicate 
greenness  and  the  soft  airs  of  spring,  I  turn  to  them. 

At  two  o'clock,  yesterday,  Mrs.  President  Grant  had  a  grand 
reception  at  the  White  House.  There  hasn't  been  the  ghost  of 
one  while  Lent  kept  people  down  to  a  fish  diet  and  morning 
meetings ;  but  now,  when  the  flowers  of  Easter-Sunday  have 
all  withered  up,  people  begin  to  visit  one  another  again,  and 
this  grand  reception  at  the  White  House  sort  of  opens  the 
way  and  sets  the  fashions  a-going  once  more. 

Well,  when  the  time  came,  Cousin  E.  E.  and  I  were  on 
hand.  My  pink  silk  dress  was  a  little  rumpled ;  but  I  shook 
it  out  and  smoothed  it  down. 

Cousin  E.  E.  came  out  like  a  princess,  in  pale  lilac-colored 
silk,  with  a  whole  snow-storm  of  lace  crinkling  over  it.  I 
declare,  sisters,  she  looked  fresh  and  sweet  as  the  first  lilac 
that  blows !  I  was  really  proud  to  introduce  her  as  my  rela 
tion. 

Cousin  Dempster,  having  a  claim,  had  to  go  to  the  Capitol ; 
so  E.  E.  and  I  went  together — no  gentlemen  being  absolutely 
necessary  to  a  daytime  reception,  you  know. 

Well,  we  got  out  of  the  carriage  as  light  and  chipper  as  two 
birds.  The  driver  held  out  his  arm  to  keep  our  dresses  from 
touching  the  wheel,  as  they  streamed  out  after  us ;  and  I  must 
say  Vermont  didn't  suffer  much  as  to  ladies  when  we  walked, 
with  the  slow  dignity  befitting  persons  with  the  eye  of  a  State 
upon  them,  into  the  blue  room,  where  Mrs.  President  Grant 
recepted.  Well,  I  reckon  the  ladies  were  two  to  one  against 
the  men  in  that  blue  room,  and  it  just  looked  lovely ! 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  round,  blue  silk  sofa, 
I  have  told  you  about,  cut  up  into  seats,  and  rising  to  a  point 
in  the  middle,  as  if  a  silk  funnel  had  been  turned  bottom-side 
up  there.  On  the  nozzle  end  of  this  point  a  great  white  flower 
pot  stood,  a-running  over  with  pink  and  white  flowers,  rising 
in  great  clusters  one  above  another,  till  they  brightened  the 
whole  room  with  a  glow  like  early  morning. 


Mrs.  Grant's  Reception.  217 

In  front  of  this  ring  sofa  the  Mrs.  President  stood,  looking 
just  a£  smiling  and  sweet  as  a  bank  of  roses.  She  had  on  a 
pink  dress — no,  not  exactly  what  we  call  pink — but  the  color 
was  soft  and  rosy  as  a  cloud ;  snowflaky  lace  floated  around 
her  arms,  and  shaded  her  neck,  which  was  plump,  and  white, 
and  pretty  as  any  girl's.  She  hadn't  a  sign  of  a  flower,  or 
anything  on  her  head ;  but  the  soft,  crinkly  hair  curled  down 
to  her  forehead  sweetly,  and  she  seemed  almost  like  a  young 
girl.  Everybody  there  said  that  they  never  had  seen  her  look 
so  handsome. 

Well,  there  she  stood,  with  a  nice  little  lady  on  one  side, 
helping  her  recept ;  and  she  did  it  sweetly,  which  was  likely, 
she  being  the  wife  of  Senator  Morton,  of  Indiana,  one  of  Gen 
eral  Grant's  biggest  sort  of  guns.  You  have  heard  of  Senator 
Morton,  of  course.  He  was  a  first-rate  fellow  during  the  war, 
when  he  just  buckled  to  and  raised  a  half  a  million  of  dollars 
on  his  own  account  for  the  Government,  which  was  grand  in 
itself,  and  accounts  for  the  way  the  people  in  Indiana  almost 
worship  him. 

Well,  this  lady  was  his  wife.  She  looked  young,  and  was 
dressed  nicely — not  just  like  a  girl,  but  as  if  she  had  her  hus 
band's  dignity  to  take  care  of,  as  well  as  her  own  good  looks. 

When  we  got  to  the  door  of  this  room,  a  gentleman  came 
up,  and,  after  making  a  bow,  wanted  us  to  tell  our  names. 
Cousin  E.  E.  answered : 

"  Mrs.  Dempster,  of  New  York,  and  Miss  Phcemie  Frost, 
of  Vermont." 

He  didn't  seem  to  hear  distinctly,  but  bent  his  head ;  and 
says  he : 

"  Miss,  did  you  say  ?  " 

I  flushed  rosy-red,  and  my  eyelids  drooped,  for  I  was  think 
ing  of  the  Grand  Duke. 

"  At  present,"  says  I. 

Then  the  gentleman  called  out  so  loud  that  everybody  could 
hear  him : 

"  Mrs.  Dempster — Miss  Phcemie  Frost." 
10 


21 8  Mrs.  Grant's  Reception. 

I  say,  sisters,  did  you  ever  see  a  cage  full  of  canary-birds 
flutter  when  a  cat  was  looking  through  the  wires  ?  If  you 
have,  that  can  give  you  some  idea  of  the  buzz,  hum,  and  rustle 
that  was  going  on  when  we  came  up  to  the  front  of  that  round 
sofa,  and  gave  Mrs.  Grant  and  Mrs.  Morton  one  of  those  sliding 
curtsies  that  set  off  a  long-trailed  dress  so  well. 

Mrs.  President  Grant  smiled  sweetly,  and  held  our  her  hand. 
I  took  that  hand,  I  pressed  it  kindly — for  I  like  that  woman, 
whom  poverty  could  not  daunt,  and  sudden  prosperity  could 
not  spoil.  She's  a  good,  motherly,  nice  woman,  and  my  heart 
warmed  to  her  as  I  took  her  hand  in  mine. 

"  Miss  Frost,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  back  in  Washing 
ton,"  says  she ;  <c  especially  as  the  weather  promises  to  be  so 
pleasant." 

"  In  some  places  we  are  apt  to  forget  the  weather,  finding 
everything  bright  and  pleasant  without  regard  to  it,"  says  I. 

When  I  spoke,  the  ladies  around  crowded  up  to  listen,  and 
looked  at  each  other,  smiling.  One  or  two  gentlemen  came 
up,  too,  and  when  I  bowed  my  head  and  walked  on,  giving 
common  people  a  chance,  one  of  them  came  up  to  me,  and  says 
he: 

"  Miss  Frost,  I  think  I  have  the  pleasure  of  claiming  you  as 
a  constituent,"  says  he. 

"  A  what  ?  "  says  I. 

"  A  constituent,"  says  he,  a-smiling  softly. 

"  No,"  says  I ;  "  I  don't  remember  being  connected  with  any 
family  of  that  name." 

((  But  you  are  from  Vermont  ?  " 

"  I  am  proud  to  say  ( Yes,'  "  says  I,  a-bowing  my  best,  in 
honor  of  the  old  State. 

"  Then  I  have  some  claim  on  your  acquaintance,"  says  he. 
"  My  name  is ." 

I  reached  out  my  hand.     The  fire  flashed   into  my  eyes. 
"Our  United  States  ^Senator  ?"  says  I. 
•    tf  I  believe  the  people  have  given  me  that  honor,"  says  he. 

* '  And  honored  themselves  in  the  doing  of  it,"  says  I. 


Mrs.  Grant's  Reception.  219 

I  declare  the  man  blushed,  showing  that  high  parts  and  ex 
traordinary  knowledge  haven't  made  him  conceited.  But  I 
hadn't  said  a  word  more  than  the  truth.  Vermont,  of  all  the 
States  of  the  Union,  I  do  think,  has  done  herself  credit  in  her 
choice  of  Senators.  There  isn't  in  all  the  Senate  a  man  that 
either  of  'em  cannot  hold  his  own  with,  and  I  don't  believe  a 
rough  or  ungentlemanly  word  or  action  has  ever  been  on  record 
against  either  of  them." 

Before  he  could  answer,  a  gentleman  came  and  spoke  low 
to  him.  Then  he  said,  with  a  pleased  look  : 

"  This  is  Mr.  . — ,  our  other  Senator,  Miss  Frost,  who 

is,  I  am  sure,  as  glad  to  welcome  you  here  as  I  am." 

I  turned,  and  saw  a  tall,  spare  man,  with  the  kindest,  mild 
est,  and  most  speaking  face  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  His  voice,  too, 
when  he  spoke,  was  just  benign.  I  gave  him  my  hand.  If  I 
looked  half  as  glad  as  I  felt,  he  must  have  seen  the  warmest 
sort  of  a  welcome  in  my  eyes.  I  felt  honored  by  an  introduc 
tion  to  these  men.  Not  because  they  happened  to  be  my  own 
Senators,  but  because  they  are  men  of  heart  and  brains,  capa 
ble  of  understanding  what  the  people  want,  and  both  honest 
and  strong  enough  to  maintain  what  they  understand.  I  write 
this  without  hesitation,  knowing  that  there  isn't  a  society  or 
household  in  Vermont  that  will  not  agree  with  my  way  of 
thinking  about  them. 

I  don't  think  much  of  beauty  in  a  man,  but  there's  no 
dreadful  harm  in  being  good-looking,  and  in  that  respect  our 
Senators  pull  about  an  even  yoke  with  each  other,  and  can't  be 
overmatched  by  many  States  in  the  Union. 

Well,  we  walked  about  the  room,  and  had  a  good  deal  to  say 
concerning  the  Old  Mountain  State,  while  the  crowd  went  in 
and  out  down  the  east  room,  through  the  parlors,  and  into  a 
great,  long  greenhouse,  blazing  out  with  flowers  that  grew  so 
thick  and  smelled  so  sweet  that  I  loiiged  to  stay  there  forever. 
But  by  the  time  I  was  ready  to  leave,  the  company  had  thinned 
off,  and  Cousin  E.  E.  was  waiting  for  me,  a  little  out  of  sorts, 
for  somehow  I  had  lost  her  in  the  crowd ;  but  she  soon  came  to, 


22O  Representative   Women^ 

and  when  I  told  her  our  Senators  were  going  to  call  on  us  at 
the  hotel,  she  chirked  up.  After  all,  Cousin  E.  E.  is  a  good- 
hearted  creature  as  ever  lived. 


LII. 

EEPRESENTATIVE    WOMEN. 

SISTERS  : — My  ambitious  longings  are  satisfied. 
I  have  stood  before  the  Mrs.  President  of  these  United 
States,  and  in  that  august  situation  sustained  the  honor 
and  dignity  of  our  Society  in  a  manner  that  I  hope  will  meet 
with  your  united  and  individual  sanction.  Mrs.  Grant  has 
had  a  great  many  ladies  of  one  kind  and  another  standing  by 
her  side  as  honored  guests  of  the  nation,  but  I  do  think  the  liter 
ary  strata  of  the  Union  has  never  been  fully  represented  before. 
I  do  not  say  this  vaingloriously — far  be  it  from  me  to  claim 
anything  on  my  own  merits — but  when  the  reputation  of  our 
Society  is  concerned,  I  am  ready  to  stand  up  among  the  best, 
and  hold  my  own  even  in  the  national  White  House. 

That  I  have  done  according  to  the  best  of  my  abilities,  and, 
I  trust,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Society,  but  I  claim  no  credit 
for  it.  Any  of  us  young  girls  can  bow  and  smile,  and  give  out 
words  that  melt  into  a  vain  man's  heart  like  lumps  of  maple-sugar, 
and  that  is  about  all  that  is  expected  from  the  female  women 
who  perform  Society  in  Washington,  and  real  pretty,  smart 
women  most  of  them  are;  but  after  all,  they  are  only  acci 
dental  females,  and  get  there  just  because  their  husbands  hap 
pen  to  be  elected  to  a  place,  and  wouldn't  even  be  heard  of 
if  some  smart  man  hadn't  given  them  his  name — more  than  as 
like  as  not — before  he  knew  himself  how  much  it  was  worth. 

Now  you  will  understand,  sisters,  that  no  man,  though  he 
should  happen  to  be  smart  as  a  steel  trap,  and  pleasant  as  a 


Representative   Women.  221 

willow  whistle,  can  give  extra  brains  or  sweet  manners  to  a 
wife  who  hasn't  got  'em  in  her  own  right.  So  there  is  a 
chance  that  some  short  comings  in  the  female  line  are  not  very 
uncommon. 

The  senators  and  judges  and  cabinet  people  are,  as  a  general 
thing,  the  picked  men  of  the  nation,  but  they  choose  their  own 
wives,  and  some  of  them  haven't  half  so  much  taste  in  the 
fine  arts,  to  which  many  of  this  generation  of  women  belong, 
as  they  have  knowledge  about  politics.  Still,  these  ladies  are 
what  they  call  representative  women,  and,  nationally  consid 
ered,  are  the  cream  on  cream  of  American  society.  That  is 
a  fact,  too,  as  far  as  they  represent  their  own  husbands.  By 
marrying  great  men,  or  those  who  are  merely  fortunate,  they 
are  only  lifted  more  clearly  into  the  public  view,  where  their 
virtues  and  their  faults  are  held  up  for  general  examination. 
Still,  it  is  wonderful  how  popular  some  of  them  get  to  be,  and 
how  soon  they  learn  the  duties  of  their  places. 

Sometimes  a  first-rate  woman  happens  to  marry  a  first-rate 
man,  and  takes  her  place  by  his  side  naturally.  A.  good  many 
such  women  have  earned  a  place  for  themselves  in  society  quite 
equal  to  any  their  husbands  have  been  chosen  to  hold  by  the 
people. 

Mrs.  Madison,  Mrs.  Polk  and  Miss  Lane  were  among  these, 
and,  as  a  perfect  lady,  well  known  for  years  and  years  in 
Washington,  Mrs.  Oittendon,  the  widow  of  Senator  Critten- 
don — formerly  Mrs.  Ashley — is  always  mentioned  side  by  side 
with  her  husband,  and  stood  quite  as  high  among  women  as  he 
did  among  men.  In  my  opinion,  there  is  a  senator's  wife  from 
Minnesota  that  can  hold  her  own  with  the  handsomest  and 
highest  of  those  that  have  gone  before ;  but  as  she  is  extra 
modest  too,  I  give  no  names. 

Then  there  is  another,  I  will  say  it,  who  has  done  honor  to 
her  position  and  credit  to  her  husband,  and  that  is  Mrs.  Ulysses 
Grant.  She  is  just  a  good,  honest,  motherly  woman,  pleasant 
to  look  at  and  pleasant  to  speak  to.  She  acts  out  what  she 
pretends  to,  and  pretends  to  be  just  what  she  is.  If  this  woman 


222  Representative   Women. 

hasn't  pulled  an  even  yoke  with  her  husband,  both  in  the  war 
and  after  the  war,  no  female  of  my  acquaintance  ever  did.  It's 
of  no  use  talking,  I  like  that  woman. 

But  I  am  a-going  at  a  rate  that  wants  pulling  up,  so  I  tighten 
the  bridle  and  take  a  new  turn. 

What  I  began  to  write  about  was,  a  reception  at  Mr. 
Horatio  King's,  which  always  takes  off  the  first  skimming  of 
cream  from  Washington  society. 

Mr.  King  is  a  New  England  man,  and  was  born  and  brought 
up  in  Mairfe,  which  lifts  him  almost  to  a  level  with  us  of  Ver 
mont. 

In  fact,  in  the  way  of  statesmen  and  authors,  I  am  bound  to 
say  that  Maine  pulls  an  even  yoke  with  the  Green  Mountain 
State.  So  far  as  authors  are  concerned,  I'm  afraid  she  goes  a 
little  ahead  of  us. 

The  city  of  Portland  was  just  a  nest  of  authors  before  they 
took  wing  and  settled  down  in  other  places. 

John  Neal,  one  of  the  most  splendid  men  and  brilliant 
writers  that  ever  put  an  American  pen  to  paper,  was  born 
there,  and  has  spent  most  of  his  life  in  his  native  place. 

N.  P.  Willis  was  born  in  Portland ;  so  was  Sebe  Smith,  who 
called  himself  Jack  Downing  in  his  letters. 

Longfellow's  family  was  rooted  in  that  town  long  before  he 
honored  it  by  being  born. 

James  Brooks,  who  was  for  years  a  pillar  of  strength  in 
Congress,  and  who  started  the  first  newspaper  correspondence 
ever  thought  of,  in  the  Portland  Advertiser ',  which  he  edited  be 
fore  he  was  twenty  years  old,  was  a  native  of  Portland,  which 
city  he  represented  in  the  legislature,  then  travelled  all  over 
Europe  on  foot,  and  settled  down  in  New  York  before  he  was 
twenty-six.  After  this  he  spent  twelve  or  fifteen  years  in 
Congress —  earned  a  place,  second  to  no  man  there,  as  a  states 
man,  travelled  over  Eur.ope  three  times,  visited  Egypt  and  the 
Holy  Land,  and  finished  his  travels  by  a  trip  round  the 
world,  taken  between  the  sessions  of  Congress.  Beside  this,  he 
never  ceased  to  be  the  leading  editor  of  the  New  York  Ex- 


A  Literary  Party.  223 

press,  and  his  book  about  Japan,  China,  and  so  on,  which  Mr. 
Appleton,  of  New  York,  has  published,  is  one  of  the  best  b 
of  travel  extant.  . 

Beside  all  these,  Mr.  King  made  his  first  literary  start  in 
Portland,  where,  as  a  young  man,  he  edited  a  weekly  paper. 
But  he  has  lived  most  of  his  after-life  in  Washington,  generally 
holding  a  high  position  there.     During  a  portion  of  Mr.  bi 
chanan's  administration,  he  was  Postmaster-General  of  the* 
United  States,  and  at  all  times  he  has  been  considered  a  n 
worth  knowing. 


LIII. 

A   LITERARY   PARTY. 


flEAR  SISTERS  :— Of  course  I,  being  a  young  girl  of 
New  England,  felt  myself  at  home  in  Mrs.  King's 
Kaaac,,  house  the  minute  I  entered  it.  There  is  something  in 
the  air  of  a  dwelling  like  that,  pure  and  breezy,  like  the  morn- 
in*  winds  on  the  Green  Mountains.  I  felt  myself  growing 
frank  and  cheerful  as  I  got  into  the  hall.  The  parlors  were 
crowded  full— three  of  them— with  people  that  one  ] 
look  at,  and  longed  to  know  ;  for  every  face  had  an  idea  m  it, 
and,  beyond  that,  a  good  many  were  right  down  beautiful. 

But  beauty  by  itself  isn't  enough  to  get  an  invitation  here, 
and  good  clothes  count  for  just  nothing,  though  there  was 
plenty  of  them,  and  I  didn't  feel  as  if  my  pink  silk  was  too 
much.  Something  a  little  more  austere,  in  the  velvet  or 
alpaca  line,  might  have  been  more  appropriate  to  the  occasion. 
Still,  there  was  a  rosy  brightness  about  my  silk  that  had  a  te 
dency  to  give  a  glow  of  youthful  thoughtlessness  to  intelligence, 
and  combine  an  idea  of  high  fashion  with  genius. 

Mr.  King,  and  his  daughter,  a  proper,  pretty  stylish  lady, 


224  A  Literary  Party. 

stood  near  the  door  when  I  went  in,  with  the  train  of  my  dress 
streaming  back  into  the  hall,  and  some  natural  rose-geranium 
leaves  circling  my  brow  in  a  way  that  was  calculated  to  remind 
an  observing  person  of  Miss  Corinne  when  she  was  crowned  in 
the  Capitol  at  Rome. 

Mr.  King  come  forward  to  meet  me  with  his  hand  held  out. 
He  is  a  thin,  spare  man,  with  the  sweetest  and  kindest  look  in 
his  face  that  you  ever  saw.  I  had  intended  to  just  touch  his 
hand,  and  make  a  sweeping  salute,  half  bow,  half  curtsey,  that 
would  take  in  the  whole  admiring  crowd ;  but  his  frank,  smil 
ing  welcome  just  took  me  right  off  from  my  feet,  and  I  gave 
his  hand  a  good,  hearty  New  England  shake  that  made  him 
feel  to  home  in  a  minute. 

Mr.  King  led  me  into  the  parlor,  and  gave  me  a  soft  seat 
among  the  cushions  of  a  sofa  in  the  middle  room,  just  as  Solo 
mon  must  have  waited  on  the  Queen  of  Sheba.  Then,  feeling 
that  the  eyes  of  more  States  than  Vermont  were  upon  me,  I 
spread  out  my  skirts,  leaned  one  arm  on  the  sofa  cushion,  and 
settled  myself  just  as  Mr.  Brady  had  done  it  when  I  sat  to  him 
for  a  picture ;  thus  adding  an  artistic  feature  to  the  fashion 
able  and  intellectual  embodiment  of  my  first  appearance.  Thus, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  a  modest  demeanor,  which  must  have 
been  attractive,  I  waited  for  the  literary  programme  that  lay 
before  us. 

It  commenced  beautifully.  Mr.  King  took  his  place. tinder 
the  chandelier  of  the  middle  room,  and  welcomed  his  friends 
with  a  very  poetic  and  touching  little  speech,  which  ended  in  a 
farewell  which  almost  brought  tears  into  niy  eyes.  This  was 
his  last  reunion  for  the  year,  and  he  seemed  to  feel  the  breaking- 
up  a  good  deal,  and  his  kind  voice  shook  when  he  mentioned 
the  possibility  that  death  might  carry  off  some  of  the  friends 
who  had  brightened  his  home,  before  they  all  met  again. 

When  Mr.  King  sat  down  there  was  dumb  silence  for  a 
little  while ;  for  the  whole  crowd  seemed  to  feel  all  he  had 
been  saying,  deep  in  their  hearts.  But  this  soon  changed  into 
smiles  and  a  soft  rustle  of  dresses,  for  a  nice  elderly  gentleman 


A  Literary  Party.  22$ 

got  up  and  made  a  delightful  speech,  full  of  cheerfulness  and 
nice  friendly  feeling,  which  brightened  the  whole  crowd  up  like 
spring  winds  in  a  flower-garden. 

After  this,  another  pleasant  gentleman  arose  with  a  written 
poem  in  his  hand,  which  he  read  under  the  gaslight,  filling  the 
whole  room  with  the  sound  of  his  friendly  voice. 

The  poem  was  written  to  Mr.  King.  It  was  full  of  sweet 
thoughts  and  grateful  thanks  for  all  he  had  done  to  make  his 
friends  happy.  But  he  blushed  like  a  girl,  for  its  praises 
seemed  to  take  him  by  surprise,  and,  like  all  men  of  real 
talent,  he  is  modest  as  can  be. 

The  lady  who  wrote  this  sweet  poem  was  Mrs.  Neeley,  who 
has  been  writing  to  the  Washington  papers  ever  so  long,  in  a 
way,  too,  that  any  woman  might  be  proud  of.  She  sat  directly 
behind  the  gentleman  who  read  her  poem,  and  looked  real  nice 
in  her  crimson  velvet  dress. 

After  this  a  lady  got  up  and  read  something  mournful  about 
three  curls  of  hair  that  a  man  had  taken  from  his  wife's  head — 
golden  when  she  was  a  child,  brown  when  she  was  a  bride,  and 
snow-white  when  she  lay  dead. 

There  was  a  sort  of  sob  went  through  all  the  rooms  when 
this  poem  died  out.  Then,  after  a  little,  every  lady  began  to 
cheer  up  and  laugh ;  for  the  same  lady  was  reading  a  poem, 
half  Dutch,  half  English,  about  a  dog  howling,  which  was  so 
funny  that  I  almost  forgot  my  dignity  as  the  representative  of 
your  Society,  and  near  about  clapped  my  hands — a  thing  I 
should  have  regretted  to  the  day  of  my  death. 

This  dog  poem  set  everybody  into  a  state  of  high  gleefulness 
and  some  music  struck  up  in  the  front  room,  which  could  be 
heard  a  little  now  and  then  above  the  hum  and  rush  of  conver 
sation  that  set  in  with  the  crowd,  where  artists,  authors, 
and  statesmen,and  scientifics  mingled  in,  and  chatted  promiscu 
ously,  saying  such  bright  and  wise  and  witty  things,  that  they 
fairly  made  my  eyes  snap.  I  cut  in,  too. 

What  is  the  use  of  being  the  emissary  of  a  literary,  scien. 
tific,  and  moral  institution,  if  one  can't  hold  up  her  end  of  the 
10* 


226  A  Literary  Party.' 

yoke  in  conversation?  I  did  my  best,  sisters.  An  artist 
stood  near  me ;  I  talked  with  Lini  about  pictures  till,  I  do  be 
lieve,  he  thought  that  I  had  been  born  in  Rome,  and  cradled 
with  Michael  Angelo — an  old  fellow,  that  both  painted  and 
made  marble  men  in  Italy  years  ago.  Then  I  had  something 
to  say  about  flowers  to  an  agricultural  bureau  scientific,  and 
about  the  chemistry  of  something  to  a  savant  or  savan,  or  a 
word  like  that,  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution.  I  tell  you, 
sisters,  it  was  sharp  work ;  but  I  flatter  myself  you  were  not 
in  any  way  disgraced. 

By  and  by  I  was  introduced  to  the  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Court  of  Claims — about  as  smart  a  lawyer,  and  clear  headed  a 
judge,  as  can  be  found  in  these  parts,  I  can  tell  you.  He  was 
not  long  ago  United  States  Senator  from  Missouri,  and  has 
left  his  mark  among  the  statesmen  there ;  but  his  genius  lay  as 
much  in  expounding  the  laws  as  in  making  them.  He  has 
written  some  capital  law-books,  too,  and  could  mate  with  any 
judge,  statesman,  or  author  that  came  across  his  track.  His 
wife  joined  in  a  little  now  and  then,  as  only  a  right  down  sen 
sible  and  handsome  woman  could.  It  does  one's  heart  good  to 
see  a  great  man  and  most  lovely  woman  mated  so  for  once. 

That  was  just  what  I  did  in  Mr.  King's  parlors,  and,  when 
we  stopped  talking,  it  struck  me  that  the  gentleman  knew  a 
great  deal  more  of  literature  than  your  missionary  has  yet 
learned  of  statesmanship  or  law.  In  fact,  an  evening  in  Mr. 
King's  parlors  does  teach  one  humility,  and  I  begin  to  discover 
that  a  person  may  be  capable  of  writing  poetry,  and  making  a 
fair  report,  without  being  able  to  teach  science  to  a  professor, 
jurisprudence- — I  hope  I  have  got  the  word  right — to  a  judge, 
or  high  statesmanship  to  a  senator.  In  fact,  in  the  present 
state  of  society,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  best  of  us  have  got  to 
live  and  learn — live  and  learn. 


Dressing  for  a  Party.  22/ 


LIV. 

DRESSING   FOB   A   PARTY. 

[,Y  DEAR  SISTERS :— You  have  no  idea  how  many 
kinds  of  parties  there  are  in  Washington.     Some  are 
,  called  receptions,  because  they  take  place  in  the  day 

time,  in  houses  where  every  mite  of  sunshine  is  shut  out,  and 
the  gas  set  to  blazing  as  if  it  were  midnight.  That  is,  night 
isn't  turned  into  day  here  one  bit  oftener  than  day  is  turned 
into  night. 

Then  there  are  ladies'  lunch  parties,  where  the  daylight  is 
allowed  to  shine  in;  and  picnics,  where  one  gets  a  little  too 
much  of  it,  besides  being  tired  to  death,  and  nothing  to  show 

for  it. 

Besides  these,  there  are  political  parties,  where  men  get  up 
entertainments  that  are  called  caucuses,  which  no  lady  is  al 
lowed  to  join  in.  Besides  dinners  and  breakfasts,  and  so  on, 
without  end,  which  makes  life  in  this  city  just  one  rush  and 
tumult— to  say  nothing  of  Congress,  which  is  just  that,  and  a 
good  deal  more  so. 

Last  week,  Cousin  E.  E.  and  I  had  so  many  invitations  that 
we  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  them.  We  should  have  had 
to  go  out  to  three  breakfasts,  two  dinners,  and  six  parties  a 
night,  if  we  had  attempted  to  do  more  than  read  them  all. 
For  since  Mr.  King's  literary  reunion,  the  popularity  of  your 
missionary  has  increased  like  a  rolling  snowball,  and  her  invi 
tations  came  by  the  peck  and  half  bushel. 

Well,  out  of  this  heap,  there  was  one  or  two  places  that  I 
felt  like  honoring  with  my  presence.  So  E.  E.  and  I  sat  down 
and  wrote  a  little  note— all  ladies  write  little  notes  nowadays 
— and  relieved  the  intense  anxiety  of  the  people  who  had  in 
vited  us,  by  saying,  in  the  most  polite  way,  that  we  would 
come. 

This  act  of  kindness  had  its  reward  in  the  feeling  that  we 


228  Dressing  for  a  Party. 

had  relieved  more  than  one  anxious  host,  and  given  certainty 
of  a  brilliant  success  to  parties  that  must  necessarily  have  been 
in  doubt  until  certain  of  our  coming.  With  my  usual  modesty, 
I  say  "  our,"  wishing  to  give  E.  E.  her  little  chance,  you  know. 

The  invitation  we  resolved  to  honor  was  from  one  of  the  for- 
e;gn  ministers.  Of  course  I  expected  that  there  would  be  a 
good  many  religious  people  there,  and,  as  I  hadn't  mingled 
much  with  persons  who  were  over  pious  for  some  time,  I  an 
ticipated  a  refreshing  season ;  for  a  foreign  minister  must  have 
a  noble  missionary  spirit,  and,  no  doubt,  came  to  Washington 
on  purpose  to  reform  the  members  of  Congress,  which  is  a  work 
of  Christian  mercy,  if  ever  there  was  one. 

For  this  reason,  my  spiritual  nature  was  aroused,  and  I  was 
burning  with  desire  to  help  in  the  noble  cause,  and  let  foreign 
nations  know  that  we  had  women  in  this  country  that  could  be 
at  once  brilliant  and  devout,  celebrated  and  conscientious ;  in 
fact,  women  who  could  gracefully  combine  two  characters, 
hitherto  supposed  to  be  opposite. 

Yes,  I  was  resolved  to  go  to  this  ministerial  reunion.  Had 
I  not  been  at  Mr.  King's  literary  gathering,  which  lifted  me, 
as  it  were,  out  of  a  frivolous,  fashionable  life  into  the  purely 
intellectual,  and  now,  should  I  refuse  to  bathe  my  soul  in  the 
purer  element  of  high  Christian  fervor  ?  No,  a  thousand 
times  no ! 

On  a  religious  occasion  like  this,  I  felt  that  a  modest  dress 
— simple  black  alpaca,  for  instance,  with  a  pink  bow  at  the 
neck — would  be  about  the  thing ;  but  Cousin  E.  E.  got  almost 
huffy  about  it. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  at  the  Foreign  Minister's  a  full  toilet  is 
expected,  always.  It  is  but  proper  respect." 

"  Cousin,"  says  I,  "  no  one  can  have  more  respect  for  the 
ministerial  functions  than  I  have  ;  no  one  ever  attended  meet 
ing  more  faithfully.  Am  I  not  a. missionary  myself?  Do  you 
liiink  I  would  or  could  fall  short  of  the  mark  of  the  prize  of 
the  high  calling  ?  If  alpaca  isn't  the  thing,  I  am  open  to  rea 
son  and  pink  silk." 


Dressing  for  a  Party.  229 

"  That  will  do,"  says  she,  a-brightening  up,  "  looped  up  with 
black  velvet  and  bows,  and  decollette" 

((  Die  o'  nonsense  ?  "  says  I,  riling  a  little. 

"  Well,  low  neck  and  short  sleeves,"  says  she. 

"At  a  meeting  of  ministers  ?  "  says  I.  "  Cousin  E.  E.,  are 
you  crazy  ?  " 

"  Well,  do  as  you  please,"  says  she,  "  only  I  tell  you  it  will 
be  expected.  I  intend  to  be  very  low,  with  a  strap  for  a  sleeve, 
and  all  my  jewels." 

"  I  shall  be  content  with  the  jewels  of  the  soul,"  says  I,  with 
an  austere  rebuke  in  my  voice ;  for  if  there  is  anything  that 
riles  me  up  more  than  another,  it  is  flashy  dressing  where  one's 
mind  should  be  given  up  to  solemn  thoughts.  u  Cousin  E.  E., 
there  are  times  when  levity  of  dress  and  lightness  of  speech 
are  to  be  excused,  but  this  isn't  one  of  them.  Put  a  bridle  on 
your  tongue,  and  something  more  than  a  strap  over  your 
shoulder." 

E.  E.  colored  up,  and  gave  her  head  a  toss. 

"  Phoamie,"  says  she,  £C  you  are  past  finding  out.  Do  as  you 
please,  and  just  let  me  do  as  I  please." 

I  lifted  my  forefinger  in  gentle  warning ;  for,  with  all  her 
fashionable  crotchets,  E.  E.  is  a  good  soul  as  ever  lived,  and  I 
don't  want  to  be  hard  on  her,  feeling  that  great  minds  should 
be  forbearing,  especially  in  religious  matters.  So  we  parted 
good  friends,  and  I  went  into  my  room  to  get  ready  for  the 
solemn  occasion. 

I  took  out  my  pink  silk  dress — for  the  alpaca  was  a  little 
rusty— and  laid  it  out  on  the  bed.  Then  I  ripped  some  black 
velvet  ribbon  from  another  old  dress,  and  tied  it  up  into  bows 
that  looked  scrumptious  as  new.  After  that  I  brushed  my  hair 
out  straight,  and  braided  it  in  an  austere  fashion  appropriate 
to  the  occasion.  Not  a  friz  or  a  curl  was  to  be  seen ;  for  this 
once  I  threw  aside  the  other  woman's  hair,  and  was  from  head 
to  foot  myself  again. 

tl  Neat,  yet  genteel,"  says  I  to  myself,  when  my  dress  was 
on  and  the  black  bows  in  place.  "  Nothing  flash  or  frivolous, 


230  Foreign  Ministers. 

though  everything  refinedly  elegant.  No  minister,  be  he  ever 
so  strict  a  disciplinarian,  can  find  fault  with  me.  I  suppose 
the  critics  of  all  the  religious  papers  will  be  there.  Well,  let 
them  draw  my  portrait ;  I  am  ready  for  the  ordeal." 

With  these  high  thoughts  in  my  mind  I  went  downstairs ; 
but  the  sight  of  my  cousin  made  me  step  back  with  both  hands 
thrown  up.  She  was  just  on  fire  with  jewelry  and  precious 
stones.  They  flamed  out  on  her  neck,  twinkled  in  her  ears, 
and  shot  fiery  arrows  through  her  hair.  Her  cheeks  were  rosy 
red,  and  her  eyes  had  shadows  about  them  that  had  come  since 
she  went  down  to  dinner.  Perhaps  she  had  taken  a  nap  in  a 
dark  room,  though.  The  dress  she  wore  was  soft  and  white 
and  floating,  like  a  cloud  in  the  sky ;  and  there  was  black  lace 
mixed  with  it,  and  roses  tangled  up  with  that.  I  declare  to 
you,  sisters,  if  that  woman  had  been  going  to  a  worldly  party, 
she  couldn't  have  been  titivated  off  more  than  she  was.  It 
riled  me  to  look  at  her. 

Advice  scorned  isn't  to  be  offered  again.  I  said  nothing, 
but  let  E.  E.  go  on  in  her  frivolous  career. 


LY. 

FOREIGN   MINISTERS. 

]EAR  SISTERS:— We  entered  the  carriage,  where 
Dempster  took  the  front  seat,  just  buried  up  in  his 
wife's  dress,  and  sat  there  like  an  exclamation-point 
gone  astray.  As  for  me,  I  sat  upright  and  thoughtful,  resolved 
to  do  my  duty  in  spite  of  their  shortcomings. 

We  reached  a  large  brick  house ;  before  it  a  line  of  carriages 
kept  moving  like  a  city  funeral,  only  people  were  all  the  time 
a-getting  out  and  walking  under  a  long  tent  that  sloped  down 
from  the  front  door. 


Foreign  Ministers.  231 

«  There  will  be  a  full  Conference,"  says  I,  in  my  heart,  for  I 
was  too  much  riled  up  by  E.  E.'s  dress  for  any  observation 

to  her. 

One  thing  struck  me  as  peculiar.     None  of  the  ladies  woi 
their  bonnets,  and  a  good  many  had  white  cloaks  on,  huddled 
up  around  them  as  if  they  had  been  going  to  a  party. 

If  I  hadn't  known  the  house  belonged  to  foreign  ministers,  I 
really  should  have  thought  from  the  look  of  things  that  we  had 
lost  our  way,  and  got  into  somebody's  common  reception.  As 
it  was  I  got  out  of  the  carriage,  and  went  up  the  steps  with  my 
bonnet  on,  and  holding  up  the  train  of  my  pink  silk,  feeling 
that  so  much  appendage  was  out  of  place. 

A  colored  person  in  white  gloves  opened  the  door,  and  wav 
ing  his  hand  like  a  Grand  Duke— oh,  how  that  word  goes  to 
my  heart — -said : 

"  Front  door,  second  story." 

Another  time  I  should  have  known  that  this  meant  that  I 
could  take  off  my  things  there.  But  now  I  felt  almost  certain 
that  the  ministers  were  holding  a  prayer-meeting,  or  confer 
ence,  or  something  in  « the  front  room,  second  story,"  so  I 
went  upstairs  with  a  slow  and  solemn  tread,  feeling  that  the 
rustle  of  my  pink  silk  was  almost  sacrilege. 

I  went  into  the  room  and  looked  around.  It  was  full  of 
women,  wonderfully  dressed  women,  all  in  low  necks  and  short 
sleeves,  and  white  shoes— laughing,  giggling  women,  who  looked 
over  each  others  naked  shoulders  into  a  great  broad  looking- 
glass  crowded  full  of  faces  that  couldn't  seem  to  admire  them 
selves  enough. 

I  stopped  at  the  door.     I  scarcely  breathed.    What  could  all 
those  rosy-cheeked,  bare-armed  ladies  be  doing  in  that  house  ? 
I  asked  this  question,  of  course,  of  Cousin  Dempster,  who 
came  into  the  hall  a-pulling  his  white  gloves  on. 

«  Dempster,"  says  I,  in  a  low  voice,  "  what  does  this  mean? 
Where  are  the  ministers  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  in  the  back  room.  You  didn't  expect  them 
to  be  turned  in  with  the  ladies,  did  you  ?  " 


232  Foreign  Ministers. 

11  Well,"  says  I,  "  it  is  customary  in  our  State  now,  though 
it  was  not  formerly,  when  the  men  sat  on  one  side  at  prayer- 
meetings,  and  the  girls  on  the  other,  but  I  didn't  think  that 
notion  had  got  to  foreign  parts." 

I  don't  think  Dempster  heard  me  clearly,  for  that  minute 
liis  wife  came  out  of  the  room,  blazing  like  the  whole  milky- 
way  of  stars. 

"  Why,  Phcemie,"  says  she,  a-holding  up  both  the  white  kid 
gloves  she  had  just  buttoned  on,  "you  don't  mean  to  go  down 
with  that  bonnet  on  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  to  go  into  a  con 
ference  or  a  prayer-meeting  with  it  off,"  says  I,  severely. 

E.  E.  stared  at  Dempster,  and  he  stared  at  her.  Then  he 
hitched  up  his  shoulders,  and  she  gave  her  hands  a  little  toss  in 
the  air. 

I  didn't  seem  to  notice  thoir  antics,  but  went  with  them 
downstairs,  where  I  heard  the  sound  of  music,  which  didn't 
strike  me  as  so  sacred  as  it  ought  to  be.  Besides,  there  was  a 
buzz  and  a  hum  like  a  hive  of  bees  swarming,  which  was 
puzzling. 

When  we  went  into  the  great,  long  room,  that  seemed  run 
ning  over  with  light,  the  crowded  state  of  the  congregation 
astonished  me.  There  wasn't  seats  enough  for  one  quarter  of 
the  worshippers. 

Sisters,  I  was  the  only  one  present  who  had  studied  the 
sacred  decencies  of  a  bonnet  and  shawl.  The  rest  were 
dressed — well,  they  weren't  dressed  at  all  about  the  arms  and 
shoulders,  which  shocked  me  dreadfully ;  the  mere  presence  of 
a  lot  of  ministers  ought  to  have  made  women  more  decorous. 

Would  you  believe  it,  the  people  round  the  doors  stared  at 
me  as  if  they  had  never  seen  a  beehive  bonnet,  with  feathers 
floating  over  it,  before. 

Some  people  might  have  felt  shocked  at  so  many  eyes  turned 
on  them,  but  I  was  in  the  straight  and  narrow  path  of  duty, 
and  their  looks  passed  by  me  like  the  idle  wind.  If  they 
didn't  understand  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  I  did. 


Foreign  Ministers.  233 

"  There  is  the  Minister,"  says  Dempster,  cc  let  us  pay  our 
respects." 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  there  don't  seem  to  be  either  a  reading 
desk  or  pulpit  here !  " 

I  don't  think  Dempster  heard  me,  for  he  began  to  edge  our 
way  through  the  crowd,  till  we  got  clear  into  the  room,  which 
was  so  full  of  flowers  and  lights  and  music  that  I  began  to 
think  the  foreign  ministers  were  keeping  up  Easter-Sunday  yet. 

A  gentleman  was  standing  near  the  door  with  some  ladies 
around  him.  Dempster  took  us  straight  up  to  him. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  says  he,  "  Miss  Frost.  Miss  Phoamie 
Frost,  of  Vermont." 

I  didn't  think  that  exactly  a  proper  .place  to  be  introducing 
people  in,  and  measured  off  my  bow  accordingly,  and  passed  on 
without  troubling  myself  about  the  ladies  around  him,  who 
seemed  to  wonder  at  it.  As  if  I  wanted  to  know  them  ! 

When  we  got  into  the  crowd  again,  I  whispered  to  Demp 
ster : 

"  Do  tell  me  where  the  foreign  ministers  are  !  " 

"  The  Ministers !  Why  you  have  just  been  presented  to  the 
very  highest  of  them,"  says  Dempster. 

"  What,  that  man,"  says  I,  "  with  precious  stones  a-twink- 
ling  on  his  shirt-bosom,  and  a  bit  of  red  ribbon  in  his  button 
hole,  who  seems  to  have  cut  up  his  words  with  a  chopping 
knife  ?  You  couldn't  make  me  believe  that,  Dempster  !  " 

"  But  it  is,  upon  my  honor,  Phoemie ;  and  those  gentlemen 
standing  around  him  are  all  Ministers,  or  persons  sent  out 
with  them.  Almost  every  civilized  nation  is  represented  here 
to-night." 

I  looked  around  at  the  persons  Dempster  pointed  out — some 
were  young,  some  old,  some  you  could  understand,  others  you 
couldn't ;  most  of  them  were  talking  and  laughing  with  the 
ladies  around  them.  I  didn't  see  a  downright  serious  face  in 
the  whole  crowd. 

"  Them  ministers !  "  I  said,  scorning  Dempster's  attempt  to 
deceive  me. 


234  Foreign  Ministers. 

"  Every  one  of  them  is  a  Minister  now,  or  means  to  be." 

"  Dempster,  I  don't  believe  you." 

"  Well,  ask  some  one  else  whom  you  can  believe,"  says  he, 
a-turning  red.  "Here  is  Miss ,  she  can  tell  you." 

I  didn't  hear  the  name  clear,  but  Dempster  introduced  me 
to  a  young  lady  that  had  just  sat  down  by  me. 

"  Are  those  men  who  are  chatting  and  laughing  so,  really 
ministers  ?  "  says  I  to  her. 

"  Most  of  them  are ;  the  rest  are  connected  with  the  Lega 
tion,"  says  she.  fl  Elegant,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

Before  I  could  ask  her  what  newfangled  society  had  been 
got  up  under  the  name  of  Legation,  a  young  gentleman  with  a 
round  gold  glass  screwed  into  one  eye,  came  out  from  the  hive 
of  ministers,  and  walked  toward  us,  moving  along  slow  and 
lazy,  as  if  walking  were  too  much  for  him. 

The  girl  was  all  in  a  nutter  when  she  saw  him  a-coming  our 
way.  She  looked  at  me  as  if  I  had  a  seat  that  she  wanted  for 
some  one  else,  but  I  didn't  move ;  and  after  shaking  out  her 
dress  as  a  cross  hen  nutters  its  feathers,  she  pretended  to  look 
the  other  way,  as  if  she  didn't  care  a  mite  whether  the  young 
minister  came  up  or  not. 

Oh,  the  airs  some  of  these  school-girls  put  on  is  disgusting. 

The  young  divinity  student  came  up  with  a  sort  of  half- 
dancing  step. 

"  Miss,"  says  he,  a-bowing  and  chewing  up  his  words  as  if 
he'd  a  piece  of  sweet  flag-root  in  his  mouth,  "  delighted  to — 
aw — aw — have  the  honor  of  seeing  you  here — am,  indeed." 

She  bowed,  she  prisrned  up  her  mouth,  waved  her  fan  a 
trifle,  and  says  she — 

"  Of  course  you  ought  to  have  expected  me.  I  am  a  little 
exclusive,  but  always  make  a  point  of  coming  here." 

The  young — no,  he  wasn't  over  young,  but  did  his  best  to 
look  so.  Well,  this  foreign  student  just  turned  his  glass  on  me, 
his  impudent  little  eye  stared  right  through  at  my  bonnet. 
Then  he  looked  at  that  finefied  girl,  and  they  both  smiled  at 
each  other. 


Foreign  Ministers.  235 

This  riled  me. 

Then  a  couple  of  young-  ladies  crowded  by  us,  laughing  a 
little.  The  divinity  student  turned  his  glass — eye  and  all — 
upon  them,  then  he  turned  to  the  young  creature  by  my  side, 
and  says  he,  curling  up  his  wisp  of  a  mustache : 

"Now,  really,  miss,  what  is  the  reason  all  the  American 
^oung  ladies  have  the  manners  of  chambermaids  ?  " 

I  felt  my  Yankee  heart  spring  straight  up  into  my  New 
England  mouth ;  but  the  foreign  snipe  wasn't  speaking  to  me, 
so  I  sat  still  and  listened  for  what  that  young  creature  would  say. 

"  The  manners  of  chambermaids !  "  says  she,  <c  did  you  mean 
that?" 

"  Really — yes — I  think  they  have,  you  know." 

fl  Well,  I  will  not  contradict  you,  for  you  generally  are 
right,"  says  she,  as  meek  as  Moses — yes,  Moses  in  the  bul 
rushes,  "  but  not  quite  all,  I  hope." 

The  mean  thing  couldn't  keep  from  trying  to  wring  a  compli 
ment  for  herself  out  of  this  insult  to  the  general  American 
female. 

The  fellow  had  sense  enough  to  see  what  she  wanted,  and  he 
gave  it  to  her. 

"  Aw — aw — of  course  there  are  a  few  lovely  exceptions,  you 
know,"  says  he,  a-bowing  so  low  that  his  eye-glass  dropped  out 
of  his  poor  little  eye  that  looked  like  a  green  gooseberry  with 
out  it.  "  I  speak  of  American  women,  generally,  as  having  the 
manners  of  chambermaids." 

I  couldn't  hold  in  one  minute  more.  ISTo  coffee-grounds, 
twice  soaked,  ever  riled  up  like  my  temper. 

"If  you  find  American  ladies  acting  like  chambermaids," 
says  I,  "  it's  because  they. feel  compelled  to  adapt  themselves 
to  the  company  they  are  in." 

Here  I  bent  my  head  with  a  low,  dignified  bow,  and  waved 
my  fan  with  a  calm  but  decided  motion. 

That  little  humbug  of  a  young  lady  looked  half  scared  to 
death.  The  divinity  student  ground  his  glass  into  his  eye, 
looked  at  me  from  head  to  foot,  and  says  he : 


236  Foreign  Ministers. 

"  Aw, -aw !  "  and  walked  away. 

The  girl  looked  after  him  as  if  she  wanted  to  cry,  but  just 
then  a  great  whirl  of  music  burst  from  the  next  room,  and  I 
thought  the  meeting  was  about  to  organize,  when  a  tall  fellow, 
with  his  mustache  quirled  up  like  an  ox-horn,  came  tetering  up 
to  the  young  female  by  my  side. 

"  May  I  have  the  honor?  "  says  he. 

The  girl  turned  her  head  sideways,  and  rolled  up  her  eyes 
like  a  pullet  drinking. 

"  It  is  a  quadrille,  Count,"  says  she,  "  and  I  never  join  in 
one." 

f(  A  quadrille,  pardonne  !  You  are  right.  When  you  daunce 
— if  you  daunce — why,  of  course,  you  daunce  a  round  daunce." 

The  fellow  flung  out  his  white  hands,  making  a  little  dive 
forward  with  each  word;  then  he  saw  my  face,  which  must 
have  spoken  volumes,  and  slacked  off  his  antics.  I  don't  think 
he  liked  the  cut  of  my  smile,  for,  crooking  up  his  elbow,  ho 
leaned  forward,  and  says  he : 

11  May  I  be  honored  with  a  promenade  ?  " 

She  took  his  arm,  and  the  two  fluttered  off  into  the  crowd, 
which  was  pouring  off  into  a  large  room  beyond  the  one  we 
were  in. 

"  The  meeting  is  going  to  commence  now  in  good  earnest,"  I 
thought.  "  I'll  try  and  get  a  seat  where  I  can  hear." 

Cousin  Dempster  and  E.  E.  came  up,  and  I  joined  in.  The 
lecture-room  was  long,  and  lighted  up  beautifully.  Eight  in 
front  of  the  door  was  the  singers'  gallery,  hung  round  with  red 
cloth,  and  over  that  hung  great  wreaths  of  flowers,  but  I  saw 
neither  pulpit  nor  reading-desk. 

"Where  will  the  minister  be  ? r  I  whispered  to  Cousin 
Dempster. 

"  Oh,  he  will  open  the  ball." 

"  Open  the  ball !  What  do  you  mean?  "  says  I.  "A  min 
ister  dancing !  I  won't  believe  it." 

"Why,  they  all  do,"  says  he,  innocent  as  a  lamb.  "No 
better  dancers  in  Washington." 


Good  Clothes.  237 

Sisters,  what  do  you  think  of  that?  Was  I  to  blame  when 
I  insisted  on  leaving  that  house  at  once  ?  Would  you  have  had 
me  sit  by  and  witness  this  degradation?  "No,"  says  I  to 
Cousin  Dempster,  <(  I  won't  stay.  If  ministers  of  the  Gospel 
will  do  such  things,  I,  as  a  New  England  woman — girl  I  mean 
— would  be  committing  a  sin  to  look  on." 

"  But  you  do  not  understand.  They  are  Foreign  Ministers, 
sent  here  by  other  nations,  which  they  represent." 

"  So  much  the  worse — how  dare  they  set  such  examples?  " 
says  I. 

"  Ambassadors !  can't  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  understand.  All  ministers  are  ambassadors 
from  the  Lord ;  but  I  never  heard  of  their  dancing,  except  that 
Shaking  Quakers  do  now  and  then,  which  is  a  part  of  their 
religion,  and  they  are  only  elders,  anyhow." 

"  But  there  is  no  religion  in  these  things  !  " 

"I  should  rather  think  not,"  says  I,  a-walking  resolutely 
toward  the  door.  "  Now  it's  of  no  use  explaining  and  apol 
ogizing  to  me.  Dancing  ministers  ain't  of  my  sort.  I'm  going 
right  straight  home." 

Sisters,  I  went. 


LYI. 


GOOD    CLOTHES. 

|EAR  SISTERS : — I  told  you  in  my  last  Report  that 
there  were  three  or  four  invitations  that  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  accept,  for  I  have  got  so  now,  that  it  is 
my  privilege  to  pick  and  choose  who  I  will  honor  and  who  I 
will  not. 

Well,  the  person  I  distinguished  this  time  was  just  one  of  the 
handsomest  and  nicest  ladies  that  you  ever  sot  eyes  on.     Every- 


Good  Clothes. 

body  that  knows  her  says  that.  No  bird  pluming  itself  on  an 
apple-tree  limb  full  of  blossoms  was  ever  more  graceful ;  no 
church  member  could  be  more  kind-hearted.  She  is  just  a 
sumptuous  young  woman  who  worshipped  a  true-hearted,  high- 
minded  father  with  all  her  might  and  honored  him  in  all  her 
acts.  It  is  a  great  pity  she  wasn't  born  in  Vermont,  but 
that  cannot  be  helped  now.  I  wish  it  could. 

Of  course  I  felt  it  a  privilege  to  represent  your  Society 
before  a  lady  like  this;  for  it  seems  to  me  as  if  she  were  born 
to  be  an  ornament  to  this  great  nation.  I  say  this  because  I 
really  think  she  is  good  as  good  can  be.  Miss  Kate  Chase, 
though  she  did  marry  a  United  States  Senator,  will  always  be 
best  known  to  the  country  as  Chief  Justice  Chase's  daughter, 
and  a  compliment  to  her  is  a  compliment  to  him,  which  I,  as  a 
distinguished  worn— I  beg  pardon,  young  girl— could  pay,  and 
still  preserve  that  reputation  for  correct  deportment  which,  I 
am  proud  to  say,  follows  me  wherever  I  go. 

Well,  not  wanting  to  keep  Mrs.  Sprague  in  suspense,  and 
feeling  that  she  might  be  pining  for  my  autograph  to  lie  upper 
most  in  the  great  dish,  all  gold  and  stone  pictures,  which  she 
keeps  full  of  letters  and  cards  and  things,  I  wrote  her  a  sweet 
little  letter,  in  rny  finest  hand,  with  a  green  and  red  "  P.  F." 
twisted  together  on  the  straw-colored  envelope,  saying  that  I 
would  come. 

After  that  I  felt  calm  and  content,  knowing  how  much  hap 
piness  I  had  given. 

Cousin  Dempster  and  E.  E.  had  an  invite  too.  I  really  hope 
they  have  sense  enough  to  know  the  source  from  which  all 
these  attentions  come,  but  sometimes  I  doubt  it.  Still,  they  do 
look  up  to  me. 

The  night  came,  and  found  me  ready.  E.  E.  had  told  me 
that  when  Mrs.  Sprague  gave  a  party,  her  guests  almost  always 
came  out  in  span-new  dresses.  Her  entertainments  were  the 
entertainments  of  the  season.  Nobody  had  yet  been  able  to 
come  up  to  her,  let  them  try  ever  so  much,  and  people  dressed 
accordingly. 


Good  Clothes,  239 

Of  course  I  wasn't  going  to  be  behindhand  on  a  fashionable 
occasion  like  that,  where  a  certain  person  was  sure  to  be  an 
object  of  special  admiration  and  envious  criticism,  so  I  went  to 
work  at  once,  and  turned  my  pink  silk  wrong  side  out  with  my 
own  hands. 

Then  I  took  an  hour  or  so  of  solitary  shopping,  and  had  the 
things  I  bought  carried  straight  into  my  own  room,  for  I  had 
given  out  that  I  had  a  sick  headache,  and  wanted  to  sleep — a 
fib  so  delicate,  that  it  seemed  almost  conscientious,  besides  be 
ing  worth  forgiving  on  account  of  its  originality. 

Well,  I  worked  away  like  everything,  determined  to  show 
the  world,  for  my  own  private  enjoyment,  that  genius  wasn't 
limited  to  writing,  but  would  sometimes  break  out  in  silks  and 
laces  and  flowers,  with  astonishing  effects.  So  my  heart  rose, 
and  my  fingers  flew. 

That  headache  of  mine  lasted  three  days,  without  intermis 
sion.  During  this  season  of  affliction,  my  meals  were  brought 
up  on  a  hotel  tray,  and  I  took  care  to  order  them  myself- — the 
toast  and  tea,  which  cousin  sent  up  at  first,  not  being  quite 
satisfactory  as  a  persistent  diet. 

At  last  my  dress  was  ready.  E.  E.  said  she  had  ordered 
hers  from  Worth,  ever  so  long  ago,  expecting  that  something 
super-elegant  might  turn  up,  like  Mrs.  Sprague's  party.  I 
didn't  ask  who  Worth  was,  not  thinking  a  masculine  mantua- 
maker  worth  inquiring  about ;  but  I  kept  a  close  mouth  about 
my  own  toilet — that  word  needs  explaining,  sisters.  With  us 
it  means  a  half-moon  table,  curtained  down,  and  ruffled  over 
with  spotted  muslin,  and  set  under  a  looking-glass.  But  here 
it  means  your  whole  dress — frock,  boots,  everything  that  you 
wear  from  top  to  toe.  This  is  why  the  word  "  toilet  "  comes 
in  so  naturally  in  my  Report.  But  understand,  it  does  not 
mean  a  table — quite  the  contrary. 

You  should  have  seen  me  when  I  came  out  of  my  room  that 
evening.  Up  to  this  I  had  been  harmonious  in  my  dress,  but 
newness  was  the  thing  here,  so  I  had  studied  the  grandly  poeti- 


240  Good  Clothes. 

cal  harmony  of  contrasts.  My  aim  had  been  something  poetical 
and  striking. 

My  pink  silk  had  turned  beautifully.  It  looked  good  as 
new,  if  not  more  so ;  the  fresh  lining  hunched  it  out  behind, 
till  a  good-sized  baby  could  have  sat  on  it,  as  such  little  fel 
lows  billow  themselves  among  the  clouds  in  an  old  picture. 
Contrast,  I  have  told  you,  was  my  idea — novelty  my  object. 
Pink  and  white  roses  I  had  worn,  black  velvet,  too,  and  nat 
ural  geranium-leaves,  which  are  given  to  wilting  fearfully ;  so  I 
cast  these  things  all  aside,  and  looped  up  my  dress  with  pond 
lilies,  of  a  rich  orange  color. 

Sisters,  the  effect  was  wonderful.  The  broad  green  leaves 
on  the  pink  ground,  the  yellow  flowers  clustering  amongst 
them.  The  lilies  of  red  gold  entwining  my  head  was  a  picture 
in  itself — to  say  nothing  of  the  tall  and  elegant  young  person 
who,  as  I  may  write,  carried  off  the  dress. 

You  should  have  seen  Cousin  E.  E.  when  I  swept  into  the 
room,  where  she  stood  ready,  my  pink  silk  rustling,  my  golden 
lilies  011  the  high  quiver,  my  hair  crinkled  in  front,  curled  be 
hind,  and  looped  up  with  those  yellow  flowers.  Sisters,  her 
surprise  was  really  a  tribute. 

I  did  not  deign  to  ask  her  how  she  liked  my  dress.  The 
look  that  followed  her  first  surprise  was  clouded  with  the  envy 
she  did  not  dare  to  speak.  I  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  pun 
ish  such  malice,  and  swept  up  and  down  the  room,  looking 
back  on  my  train,  as  a  peacock  spreads  his  tail-feathers  in  the 
sun. 

E.  E.  looked  ready  to  burst.  She  saw  that  her  own  dress 
was  nowhere,  and  resented  it  in  angry  silence.  So  I  kept  on 
walking  slowly  up  and  down,  in  order  to  bring  her  into  a  rea 
sonable  state  of  mind,  which  Christian  exertion,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  failed. 

Dempster  came  in,  and  he,  too,  was  struck  dumb  with  ad 
miring  surprise.  He  looked  at  me,  then  at  E.  E.,  but  said 
nothing.  Still  the  comparison  must  have  been  humiliating  to 
a  man  who  really  does  take  some  pride  in  his  wife. 


The  Party  of  the  Season.  241 


LYII. 

THE   PAETY   OF   THE   SEASON. 

j|EAR  SISTERS : — The  carriage  was  full  to  over- 
flowment  j  E.  E.  and  I  filled  it  with  the  sximptuosity 
of  our  garments.  Dempster  was  nowhere.  Now  and 
then  the  carriage  jolted  his  head  into  sight — thai  was  all. 

Mrs.  Sprague  lives  in  a  great,  square  corner-house  that  looks 
rich  and  respectable — two  things  that  do  not  always  come  to 
gether  in  these  days,  when  people  creep  into  society,  and  build 
themselves  up  there  on  the  property  that  should  belong  to  the 
Government.  It  has  some  wide,  jutting  windows,  and  plenty 
of  room  inside. 

The  hall-way  was  crowded  full  of  ladies,  and  so  was  the 
stairs.  Some  were  going  up,  and  some  were  coming  down.  The 
first  in  shawls  and  cloaks,  the  others  with  their  arms  and  necks 
uncovered,  or  with  just  a  shadow  of  lace  on  them,  nothing 
more. 

The  great  square  chamber  that  we  went  into  was  as  full  as  a 
bee-hive.  Silks  swept  and  rustled  against  each  other  like  oak- 
leaves  when  the  wind  shakes  them.  The  great  looking-glasses 
were  full  also — you  saw  a  crowd  of  handsome  faces  coming  and 
going  in  them  all  the  time.  Each  glass  was  like  a  picture 
always  changing. 

The  bed  was  covered  over  with  cloaks  and  shawls,  but  you 
could  see  that  the  bedstead  was  beautifully  carved,  and  the  pil 
low-cases  were  ruffled  all  round  and  edged  with  lace.  On  a 
table  near  the  door  was  a  case  of  shiny  black  wood,  curlicued 
with  gold,  and  lined  with  velvet.  In  it  was  a  lot  of  gold 
things,  essence  bottles,  knives,  scissors  with  gold  handles,  and 
glass  cases  with  gold  lids.  It  lay  open,  and  anybody  could  use 
the  things  that  wanted  to ;  I  didn't,  but  had  a  good  look  while 
E.  E.  was  titivating  in  the  crowd  before  the  glass. 

My  dress  must  have  carried  out  the  grand  idea  in  my  mind 
11 


-* 


242  The  Party  of  the  Season. 

when  I  made  it,  for  all  the  ladies  stopped,  and  gave  me  a  good, 
*iong  look  before  they  went  out,  and  I  could  see  smiles  of  ap 
probation  dancing  about  their  mouths.  My  triumph  com 
menced,  sisters,  even  in  the  dressing-room. 

Dempster  was  waiting  for  us,  and  we  followed  him  down 
stairs  into  the  largest  and  handsomest  room  I've  seen  in  Wash 
ington  City. 

It  was  just  afire  with  lights.  The  great  curving  window 
was  crowded  full  of  flowers ;  every  table  in  the  room  blazed 
out  with  them.  Two  folding-doors,  like  those  we  have  in  a 
Vermont  meeting-house,  opened  into  another  great  room,  just 
as  rainbowish  with  light,  and  smelling  just  as  sweet  with  flow 
ers — I  never  saw  anything  like  it. 

A  crowd  went  in  with  us,  and  we  had  to  wait  till  they  let 
us  go  up  to  Judge  Chase  and  Mrs.  Sprague,  who  stood  in  the 
front  room. 

Goodness  gracious,  what  a  female  woman  that  is  !  *No  wil 
low  tree  was  ever  half  so  graceful,  and,  as  for  manners,  the 
nicest  woman  I  ever  saw  is  nowhere  to  her.  Her  dress — well, 
I  really  cannot  say  that  it  didn't  pull  an  even  yoke  with  mine 
— at  any  rate  the  contrast  between  us  was  striking,  nothing 
could  have  been  more  so.  But  I  can  say,  without  vanity,  the 
crowd  as  it  came  in  stopped  to  look  at  mine  quite  as  much  as 
it  did  at  hers.  Original  taste,  you  know,  sisters,  is  every 
thing;  then  literary  genius  united  with  taste  isn't  easily 
matched.  Still,  Mrs.  Sprague's  dress  was  well  worth  notic 
ing. 

"  What  did  she  wear  ?  "  I  hear  you  say. 

Sisters,  your  wishes  are  laws  to  me. 

This  lady,  for  she  is  a  lady,  every  inch  of  her,  as  I  have 
said,  was  a  complete  contrast  to  your  missionary.  Her  dress 
had  three  colors ;  blue  satin  in  front,  wreathed  across  with  a 
wreath  of  rosebuds  and  leaves  over  each  flounce.  Running  up 
each  side  were  other  wreaths,  fastening  down  the  edges  of  a 
long  train  of  white  silk,  that  was  fastened  in  a  wide  box-plait 
at  the  back  of  the  neck,  and  swept  away  to  the  carpet,  where 


The  Party  of  the  Season.  243 

it  fell  and  floated  like  a  snow-drift  scattered  over  with  roses, 
for  they  were  done  in  needle  work  all  over  the  white  robe,  and 
seemed  to  grow  there.  The  dress  was  cut  square  about  the 
neck,  and  filled  in  with  lace.  She  had  half-sleeves,  too,  a 
thing  I  was  glad  to  see,  for  some  of  the  stuck-up  persons  who 
came  there  with  no  sleeves,  and  their  dresses  cut  short  about 
the  neck,  might  have  taken  it  for  a  rebuke.  Thank  goodness, 
I  didn't. 

Mrs.  Sprague  wore  some  jewelry.  A  wreath  of  blue  stones 
with  white  ones  that  shone  like  rain-drops  in  the  sunshine,  was 
fastened  in  her  hair,  and  hung  quivering  in  her  ears.  She  had 
gold  bands,  full  of  fiery  stones,  on  her  arms,  and  some  gold 
thing  fell  down  to  her  bosom,  set  with  something  that  looked 
to  me  like  half-ripe  cherries.  Pink  coral,  E.  E.  said  it  was. 

There  now,  you  have  Mrs.  Sprague's  dress,  and  you  have 
mine.  I  say  nothing.  Certainly  hers  was  handsome.  I  am 
not  the  person  to  draw  comparisons,  but,  from  the  notice  given 
to  mine,  I  had  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied. 

Chief  Justice  Chase  stood  by  his  daughter,  and  shook  hands 
with  me  in  the  most  friendly  manner — he  was  quite  impressed, 
I  can  assure  you.  He  was  large  and  tall — in  fact,  grand  in 
his  appearance.  His  smile  was  enough  to  make  any  one  long 
to  know  more  of  him.  It  reminded  me  a  little  of  the  great 
Grand  Duke's,  which  made  my  heart  beat  a  little  sadly. 

We  moved  into  the  crowd.  There  I  saw  a  lot  of  those 
foreign  ministers.  One  of  them  bowed  to  me.  I  gave  him  a 
dignified  bend  of  the  head.  This  messiug-up  of  divinity  and 
parties  goes  against  my  ideas  of  propriety. 

A  Vermont  minister  would  be  turned  out  of  his  pulpit  if  he 
ventured  to  show  himself  in  a  worldly  gathering  like  that. 

"  What  are  you  so  dignified  about,  Cousin  Phremie?  "  says 
Dempster.  "  Didn't  you  see  the  minister  bowing  to  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  but  I  don't  mean  to  encourage  backsliding 
and  worldly  amusements  in  Christian  leaders.  They  have  no 
business  here." 

"But  they  are  not  particularly  Christians,"  says  he. 


244  The  Party  of  the  Season. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  says  I ;  "  and  the  Churches  that  sent 
them  here  ought  to  know  how  they  are  going  on." 

"  But  the  Churches  did  not  send  that  gentleman.  It  was 
the  Queen." 

"  Exactly,"  said  I ;  "  and  isn't  she  the  head  of  the  Church. 
No,  no,  cousin,  you  can't  make  excuses  for  them." 

"  But  their  mission  is  political,"  says  he. 

"  Of  course,"  says  I.     Church  and  State — I  understood." 

A  whole  lot  of  candles,  white  as  snow,  were  burning  over 
the  wide  doors.  That  opened  into  another  long  room  where  a 
great  picture,  worked  with  a  needle,  years  and  years  ago,  hung 
on  the  wall,  and  crowds  of  people  were  moving  about.  Then 
came  a  storm  of  music,  and  I  saw  one  of  the  ministers  tetering 
off  with  a  lady  as  if  he  were  going  to  dance  again. 

"  I  declare  I  won't  look  on,"  says  I  to  Dempster ;  "  take  me 
somewhere  else." 

He  did  take  me  into  a  little  room  full  of  books,  and  there — 
standing  round  a  table  on  which  a  great  giant  of  a  china  bowl 
stood,  filled  to  the  brim  with  punch,  on  which  slices  of  lemon 
floated  temptingly — we  found  some  more  of  them  ministers, 
each  one  with  a  full  glass  in  his  hand. 

Sisters,  I  stood  there  like  a  monument,  and  saw  them  drink 
that  punch  with  my  own  eyes — more  than  one  glass  apiece,  too. 
Ministers,  indeed  ! 

While  we  stood  watching  them  in  one  door,  they  went  out 
by  another,  and  then  Dempster  took  us  in. 

E.  E.  sat  down  on  a  sofa ;  so  did  I.  Dempster  went  up  to 
the  great  bowl,  and  began  to  dip  out  the  punch  with  a  big  sil 
ver  ladle  as  if  it  had  been  soup.  He  filled  two  glasses.  A 
slice  of  lemon  floated  on  each  one  ;  they  looked  deliciously  cool, 
and  I  was  thirsty.  Sisters,  I  took  that  glass,  and  I  drank  of 
the  punch.  After  that  I  began  to  feel  more  charitable  toward 
the  foreign  ministers.  In  fact,  I  rather  think  a  sweeter  and 
more  benevolent  feeling  came  over  me  in  all  respects,  for  a  soft 
mistiness  settled  on  the  crowd,  and  the  dancers  were  peculi- 


Down  the  Potomac.  245 

arly  mazy.  I  felt  myself  smiling  blandly,  and,  in  fact,  glided 
into  a  state  of  dreamy  enjoyment  that  was  pleasant. 

The  music  stopped ;  the  dancers  locked  arms,  and  moveft 
toward  an  open  door  through  which  a  fresh  flood  of  light  was 
pouring.  We  followed  into  a  great  tent,  hung  all  round  with 
damask  linen.  Two  long  tables,  loaded  down  with  great  vases 
full  of  fruit  and  flowers;  steeples,  and  towers,  and  baskets, 
made  out  of  candy,  and  running  over  with  sugar  things ; 
peaches,  and  grapes,  and  all  sorts  of  fruit,  natural  as  life,  but 
candy  to  the  core — all  delicious  and  gorgeous  and — well,  I 
haven't  language  to  express  it;  but  the  whole"  thing  was  sumpt 
uous. 

All  down  and  around  these  two  long  tables  great  wreaths  of 
flowers  and  leaves,  half  buried  in  moss,  made  a  border  of  bloom, 
and  over  them  the  light  came  pouring,  while  the  music  sounded 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  the  crowd  poured  in. 

Really,  sisters,  I  can  say  no  more.  That  whole  scene  was 
more  than  I  can  describe.  It  just  sent  me  home  dizzy  with  be 
wilderment. 


LVIII. 

DOWN   THE    POTOMAC. 

|EAR  SISTERS:— The  Father  of  our  Country  was 
a  great  man — no  doubt  on  that  subject.  He  con 
ducted  a  war  on  small  means  and  with  few  men, 
which  gave  us  a  country  that  will  be  a  crowning  glory  of  all 
ages,  if  we  don't  melt  down  and  go  to  nothing  under  the  hot 
sunshine  of  our  own  prosperity.  He  was  a  great  man  and  a 
good  boy,  not  because  he  cut  down  the  cherry-tree  and  wouldn't 
lie  about  it,  for  good  boys  and  great  men  are  not  made  out  of 
one  action,  but  a  harmonious  character  which  produces  many 
good  actions. 


246  Down  the  Potomac. 

•  • 

Then  again,  T  am  not  so  certain  that  the  action  was  what  it 
is  cracked  up  to  be,  anyway.  In  the  first  place,  good  little 
fcoys  don't  cut  down  their  father's  fruit-trees.  Generally,  they 
|  like  to  clinib  them  a  great  deal  better,  especially  when  the 
cherries  are  ripe.  I  know  that — being  a  girl,  who  could  have 
borrowed  a  hatchet  and  made  myself  immortal  by  chopping  in 
stead  of  ^climbing  to  pick  half-green  cherries,  which  I  did,  and 
tore  my  frock,  besides  getting  a  pain  in  the — well,  heart,  which 
two  things  betrayed  me  just  as  the  little  hatchet  betrayed 
George. 

Now,  when  my  mother  asked  me  what  the  mischief  I'd  been 
about,  I  didn't  think  of  saying  I  couldn't  lie,  because  I  could, 
and  longed  to  do  it ;  but  I  knew  that  New  England  women  would 
find  me  out  and  give  me  double  " Jessie"  if  I  piled  a  whopper 
on  top  of  the  green  cherries  and  torn  frock,  so  I  told  her  I 
didn't  know,  being  conservative — took  my  whipping  like  a 
man  and  a  trooper,  scorning  to  cover  up  two  sins  under  one 
pious  truth. 

I  didn't  follow  George  Washington's  example,  for  two  rea 
sons.  First,  I  had  never  heard  of  the  hatchet ;  and  again,  the 
story  don't  wash  to  a  degree  that  is  expected  of  high-priced 
morality.  When  the  youthful  boy,  Father  of  our  Country, 
said  he  couldii't  lie,  he  was  a-doiiig  it  that  very  minute.  What 
boy  ever  lived  that  couldn't  lie  ?  Lying  is  born  in  'em,  and 
they  take  to  it  as  naturally  as  a  kitten  laps  milk. 

The  fellow  that  wrote  that  story  was  a'  botch.  Why  didn't 
he  make  little  George  say,  "  Father,  I  won't  tell  a  lie ;  so  there 
—I  cut  down  the  cherry-tree  with  my  little  hatchet." 

There  would  have  been  something  heroic  and  above-board 
about  that — a  struggle  against  temptation  foreshadowed,  and  a 
brave  determination  to  stand  up  to  the  rack,  fodder  or  no  fod 
der,  worthy  of  a  boy  that  meant  to  be  father  of  the  man,  who 
in  his  turn  was  the  father  of  his  country,  thus  doing  up  all  his 
paternity  in  a  wholesale  way.  But  to  say  he  couldn't  was  so 
sneakingly  good  that  I  don't  believe  it  of  him.  In  fact,  I  don't 
believe  one  word  of  the  story. 


Down  the  Potomac? 


247 


Put  that  down  on  the  records  of  your  Society. 

Of  course,  one  never  thinks  of  George  Washington,  that  a 
nice  boy,  showing  a  hatchet,  does  not  conie  in  as  the  first  picture! 

The  reason  I  happened  to  think  of  it  was  an  invitation  to  go 
in  a  Government  steamboat  down  to  Mount  Vernon,  Washing 
ton's  old  homestead,  and  see  the  tomb  where  he  was  buried. 

Of  course  I  wanted  to  go.  When  the  President  of  these 
United  States  gets  out  a  Government  steamboat  on  purpose  to 
carry  a  distinguished  New  England  female  down  to  the  tomb  of 
her  country's  forefathers,  it's  an  honor  she's  bound  to  accept. 

I  did  accept  it  with  enthusiasm,  and  at  once  invited  Cousin 
Dempster  and  E.  E.  to  go  with  me,  for  it  always  gives  me 
pleasure  to  act  as  a  sun  to  their  moon. 

The  Japanese  were  invited  to  join  me  on  the  boat,  and  as 
many  as  two  hundred  other  people  were  allowed  to  go  down, 
which  I  was  rather  glad  of — they  being  amongst  the  best — and 
my  nature  being  social,  as  you  know. 

Well,  between  nine  and  ten  in  the  morning,  we  drove  up  to 
the  Navy  Yard — a  place  where  the  Government  builds  tho 
ships  that  are  always  being  altered,  and  mended,  and  mado 
worse  than  they  were  before.  It's  like  a  village  on  the  water, 
is  this  Navy  Yard,  with  a  high  wall  around  it,  and  a  gate  big 
enough  for  our  carriage  to  go  through,  which  it  did,  taking  us 
down  to  the  water  in  fine  style. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  on  board  the  *  Tallapoosa '  ? "  says  a 
man  on  the  wharf. 

"The  ' Tallapoosa '!"  says  I  to  Dempster.  "What  out 
landish  thing  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  steamboat,"  says  he. 

"  Well,  why  don't  they  call  it  a  steamboat?  "  says  I;  "  such 
airs!" 

With  that,  I  jumped  out  of  the  carriage,  taking  a  neat  danc 
ing  step  as  I  touched  the  ground,  and  spread  my  parasol. 

Just  then  another  carriage  drove  up,  choke  full  of  little  dark 
men. 

"  It  is  the  Japanese,"  says  Dempster. 


248  Down  the  Potomac. 

"  The  Japanese  !  How  can  you  say  so  ?  "  says  I.  "  Where 
are  their  punch-bowl  hats  and  stiff  veils  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Dempster,  "  they  have  given  those  things  up, 
and  dress  just  as  we  do  now." 

"  Dear  me !  "  says  I,  a-looking  into  the  carriage  from  under 
a  slope  of  my  parasol.  "How  funny  they  look  with  stove 
pipe  hats,  and  boots,  too — oh  my !  " 

The  Japanese  were  getting  out  of  their  carriage,  but  they 
seemed  as  if  afraid  of  straining  too  hard  on  their  clothes,  and 
stepped  on  the  ground  as  if  it  was  paved  with  eggs. 

Bang! 

"  Oh,  goodness  gracious  !  " 

It  was  I  that  screamed  out  these  words,  and  I  hopped  up  at 
least  half  a  yard  from  the  ground,  for  somewhere,  close  by,  a 
great  gun  went  off — roaring  over  the  water,  like  thunder. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  Does  anybody  want  to  murder 
us  ?  "  says  I,  shaking  like  a  poplar-leaf. 

"  No,  no,"  says  he,  "  they  are  only  saluting  us." 

"  Saluting  me  ?  "  says  I.  "  How  dare  they  ?  Of  course 
they  knew  I  should  jump  and  scream.  So  loud,  too !  No 
young  girl  would  stand  it." 

With  that,  I  lifted  my  parasol,  and  walked  across  the  plank 
011  to  the  deck  of  that  steamboat,  and  sat  down. 

Them  Japanese  came  after,  and  sat  down  close  to  me.  Mr. 
Iwakura  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  him.  He  smiled,  and 
I  smiled.  This  Japanee  knows  how  to  smile  with  his  eyes,  and 
that's  more  than  a  good  many  other  men  can  do. 

Then  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  talk  a  little,  as  these  Japanese  had 
been  invited  on  my  account ;  so,  thinking  that  he  would  expect 
something  original  from  me,  I  said : 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  a  pleasant  day,  Mr.  Iwakura." 

"Yes,"  says  he,  in  real  cunning  English,  looking  as  if  he 
appreciated  my  little  speech. 

"  I  really  hope,"  says  I,  "  that  you  and  your  friends  will  feel 
quite  at  home." 

He  said  "  Yes,"  again,  and  smiled. 


Down  tJie  Potomac.  249 

That  smile  was  catching. 

"  I  wonder  if  Mr.  I.  left  a  wife  behind  to  languish  for  that 
peculiar  expression  ?  If  not — " 

I  checked  these  roving  thoughts  as  incompatible  with  former 
ideas. 

The  steamboat  was  puffing  and  blowing,  and  giving  a  scream 
now  and  then.  It  began  to  tremble — it  veered  and  made  a 
slow  plunge  down  the  river.  The  decks  were  crowded  with 
ladies  and  gentlemen — all  smiling  happy — that  seeming  to  be 
overjoyed  to  have  the  pleasure  of  coming  with  me. 

The  Potomac  River  is  just  lovely.  All  the  trees  along  its 
banks  were  budding  and  feathering  out  with  greenness.  Wo 
passed  by  a  towrn.  Then  a  great  round  heap  of  stone  walls, 
that  they  called  the  Fort.  The  grass  was  green  around  it,  and 
some  soldiers  came  out  on  the  walls  to  look  at  us  as  we  swept 

by- 

It  was  pleasant ;  I  felt  the  occasion  to  be  something  like  that 
on  which  that  Egyptian  woman  went  down  the  River  Nile  in  a 
row  boat ;  so  I  lowered  my  parasol  as  we  passed  the  Fort. 

At  last  the  steamboat  made  a  dead  stop  in  the  river.  We 
were  right  opposite  Mount  Yernon.  I  looked  at  the  sacred 
old  place  from  the  water.  It  was  lovely  in  itself,  standing 
there  on  a  high  knoll,  carpeted  with  soft  spring  grass,  and  with 
tall  trees  a-bending  over  it.  The  sunshine  lay  on  the  water 
and  the  shore,  but  that  old  house  was  a  good  deal  in  shadow, 
and  all  the  more  pleasant  for  that. 

Some  smaller  boats  came  up  to  the  steamboat.     We  got  into 
them  and  went  ashore. 
11* 


250  Mount  Vernon. 


LIX. 

MOUNT    VERNOX. 

^OTJNT  VERNON  had  looked  lonesome  enough  till 
now ;  but  when  we  all  landed  it  was  like  a  picture. 
We  wandered  about ;  we  broke  up  into  little  crowds, 
and  the  whole  place  was  alive  with  happy  people. 

Mr.  Iwakura  and  the  rest  of  the  Japanese  walked  slowly  up 
the  road.  Dempster,  E.  E.,  and  I  went  with  them  till  we 
came  to  a  tomb  dug  into  the  bank,  with  an  iron  fence  before  it. 

Iwakura  took  off  his  stove-pipe  hat  and  held  it,  just  as  if  he 
had  been  at  a  funeral.  The  rest  did  the  same,  looking  sad  and 
touchingly  solemn. 

I  dropped  my  parasol  low,  to  hide  the  tears  that  came  gush 
ing  up  to  my  eyes,  without  warning.  Cousin  E.  E.  began  to 
sob. 

I  turned  away,  longing  to  creep  off  into  some  dark  corner, 
and  have  a  good  cry  all  by  myself. 

A  good  many  of  the  people  had  gone  up  to  the  old  home 
stead  which  is  spread  out  low  on  the  ground,  and  has  a  stoop 
with  pillars  running  all  along  the  front.  From  this  stoop  you 
can  see  the  bend  of  the  river  and  the  blue  of  its  water  through 
the  trees.  There  was  a  well  near  by  that  put  me  in  mind  of 
home ;  a  lot  of  girls  were  drinking  from  the  bucket,  and  chir 
ruping  together  like  birds  around  a  spring. 

I  didn't  like  the  sound  just  then,  and  went  into  the  hall-way 
of  the  old  homestead.  There  was  nothing  worth  while  in  it 
but  a  great,  big,  heavy  key,  covered  with  rust,  and  big  enough 
to  knock  a  man  down  with. 

"  This,"  says  a  gentleman,  a-standing  close  by  me,  "  is  the 
key  of  the  Bastille." 

I  jumped  back. 

"  What !  "  says  I — "  that  old  prison  in  Paris,  where  men 
were  buried  alive,  without  trial  ?  " 


Mount  Vernon.  251 

"The  same,"  says  he.  "Lafayette  gave  it  to  General 
Washington." 

I  felt  myself  shuddering,  but  said  nothing.  The  subject 
struck  me  dumb.  We  went  upstairs  into  the  chamber  where 
Washington  died.  It  was  not  over  large,  and  low  in  the  joints  ; 
but  the  windows  looked  out  on  the  trees  and  the  river,  which 
took  away  some  of  its  gloominess.  Nothing  but  a  bedstead, 
with  high,  spindling  posts,  was  there. 

"  Did  he  die  on  that  ?  "  says  I  to  a  gentleman  near  me. 

"  No,"  says  he,  "  but  on  a  bedstead  just  like  it." 

I  turned  away.  What  business  had  a  sham  bedstead  in  that 
room  V  The  idea  of  it  riled  up  something  besides  sympathy  in 
my  bosom.  I  had  rather  see  bare  walls  than  a  bedstead  like 
the  one  he  died  on.  Why  don't  they  take  it  down  ? 

We  went  into  the  parlor.  It  isn't  over-large,  and  looks 
cheery.  An  old,  coffin -shaped  piano  was  there,  with  broken 
wires ;  some  old  china  plates  and  dishes  were  piled  together. 
That  was  about  all. 

I  couldn't  stand  it.  The  tomb  had  sunshine  about  it,  and 
wasn't  half  so  gloomy.  The  hall-door  was  open,  and  I  went 
out.  A  little  way  from  the  house  was  Washington's  flower- 
garden,  where  a  few  jonquills  and  crocuses  were  spotting  the 
earth  with  yellow.  Near  that  was  a  large  brick  house,  long 
and  low,  crowded  full  of  plants  which  had  flowers  on  them. 

This  wasn't  Washington's  greenhouse,  but  a  bran  new  one, 
which  looked  like  a  spring  bonnet  worn  with  a  ten-year  old 
dress.  This  riled  me  too.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  old  home 
stead  should  be  kept  just  as  Washington  left  it.  Newfangled 
improvements  are  an  aggravation. 

Before  I  came  away  from  Washington  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  talk  about  the  lady  who  lives  here  and  takes  charge,  but  I 
couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  find  out  anything  that  seemed  ex 
travagant  or  wrong  about  her.  The  truth  is,  the  ladies  of  this 
country  have  spent  years  collecting  money  to  buy  Mount  Ver 
non,  and  make  it  a  place  sacred  to  the  nation,  but  they  failed  in 
obtaining  a  fund  large  enough  to  maintain  it  with  honor. 


252  Mount  Vernon. 

The  society  give  this  lady  no  remunerative  salary,  and  noth 
ing  but  a  pure  missionary  spirit  could  keep  her  in  that  dull  and 
mournful  place.  If  she  raises  money  enough  to  keep  the  home 
stead  in  repair,  it  is  all  any  one  ought  to  ask,  and  all  the  na 
tion  wants.  But  for  my  part,  I  scorn  this  quiddling  way  of 
making  money.  There  is  a  meanness  about  it  that  disgraces  the 
nation. 

The  thing  that  should  be  done  is  this :  put  the  whole  con 
cern  into  the  hands  of  Congress.  It  ought  to  belong  to  the 
nation.  "Washington  was  not  the  saviour  of  a  lot  of  women 
only,  but  of  the  whole  country.  Let  the  country  have  possession 
of  his  old  home,  and  appropriate  all  the  money  needed  to  keep 
it  in  perfect  order,  as  Washington  left  it.  If  the  women  of 
America  raised  money  enough  to  buy  the  estate  for  no  better 
purpose  than  to  peddle  out  a  sight  of  Washington's  tomb  for 
twenty-five  cents  a  sight,  and  keep  flowers  to  sell,  they  have 
sent  their  patriotism  to  a  mighty  small  retail  market. 

Well,  in  the  afternoon  we  all  went  on  board  the  steamboat 
again,  and  had  a  good  time  running  up  and  down  the  river, 
which  is  just  one  of  the  things  I  should  like  to  do  every  day; 
for  the  day  was  bright  enough  to  keep  one  out-doors  forever, 
if  it  would  only  have  lasted  so  long. 

When  we  had  got  out  of  sight  of  Mount  Vernon,  a  band  of 
music  came  on  deck,  and  played  like  anything,  while  we  went 
down  into  the  cabin,  one  party  at  a  time,  and  ate  dinner, 
which  tasted  delicious,  I  can  tell  you — to  say  nothing  of  the 
bottled  cider,  and  such  like,  that  kept  the  corks  a-fiying  about 
like  bullets. 

It  is  wonderful  what  smartness  that  cider  gives  to  a  person. 
It  sparkles  through  one  like  the  first  spring  sap  in  a  maple- 
tree. 

When  I  went  on  deck  again,  my  limbs  felt  springy  as  a 
steel  trap,  and  I  couldn't  help  dancing  along,  for  a  band  of 
fiddlers  and  toot-horns  was  a-pouring  out  music,  that,  joined  to 
the  cider,  was  enough  to  make  one  want  to  dance  with  her  own 
grandfather. 


Mr.  Greeley  s  Nomination.  253 

They  did  dance,  sisters — I  own  it,  with  shame  and  contri 
tion.  I  joined  in  with  the  other  young  girls,  and  flatter  my 
self  they  know  by  this  time  what  a  genuine  Virginia  reel  is. 

Forgive  me,  I  know  it  wasn't  just  the  thing  for  a  church 
member  to  do,  especially  while  returning  from  that  tomb ;  but 
bottled  cider  and  fiddlers  must  be  a  stronger  power  in  the 
hands  of  the  Evil  One  than  anything  I  have  tried  yet ;  and 
more  church  members,  and  ever  so  much  older  persons  than 
me,  just  made  that  deck  shake  with  their  dancing,  half  the  way 
up  that  beautiful  river. 

Still,  my  head  aches  this  morning,  and  I  have  a  sort  £>f 
backsliding  feeling.  The  truth  is,  Tombs  and  Virginia  reels 
don't  seem  to  gibe  in  together. 


LX. 


"EAR  SISTERS  :— What  do  you  think  of  the  dear  old 
Mountain  State  now  ?  Have  you  reason  to  be  proud 
of  her,  or  have  you  ndt  ?  Do  you  understand  what 
she  lias  done  lately  in  the  way  of  literature — in  the  female 
line,  I  mean — and  now,  only  think  of  it,  the  next  President  of 
the  United  States  is  expected  from  that  sacred  and  hilly  soil. 

I  know  that  Vermont  will  be  almost  tickled  to  death  about 
this.  It  will  be  a  crown  of  glory  to  her  mountains,  and  a  song 
of  rejoicing  in  her  valleys.  The  sap  in  her  maple-trees  will 
start  earlier,  run  brighter,  and  sugar  off  more  gloriously  than 
it  has  ever  done  before.  Up  to  this  time,  Vermont  has  never 
had  her  share  of  honors  at  the  national  Capitol,  but  now  her 
time  has  come. 

I  am  so  glad  I  went  to  Mr.  Greeley's  birthday  party,  and  I 
haven't  a  doubt  that  a  great  many  other  persons  feel  pretty 


254  Mr.  Grcclcy  s  Nomination. 

much  as  I  do  about  it.  When  I  shook  hands  with  him  there, 
and  saw  him  standing  in  the  midst  of  his  friends,  with  his 
kind  face  looking  smooth  and  enticing  as  a  sweet  baked  apple, 
I  little  thought  it  might  be  the  next  President  of  these  United 
States  that  was  enjoying  himself  over  a  birthday.  But  things 
do  get  tangled  and  untangled  dreadfully  in  this  world  of  ours 
— don't  they  ?  and  the  most  uncertain  thing  on  this  side  of 
sundown  is  any  man's  destiny.  The  most  certain  thing  is  the 
popularity  of  success.  It  seems  to  me  now  as  if  I  think  con 
siderable  more  of  this  great  Vermonter  than  I  did  last  week, 
but  what  has  he  done  to  make  me? — that's  what  I  should  like 
to  know.  He's  just  the  same  man  ;  has  just  as  many  faults — 
no  great  new  supply  of  virtues.  In  fact,  what  has  he  done 
this  week  more  than  he  did  last,  that  I  should  feel  a  sort  of 
honor  and  glory  in  being  his  friend  ? 

I  have  been  putting  these  questions  to  myself,  and  the 
answer  makes  me  feel  a  little  meachen.  I  am  the  missionary 
of  one  of  the  most  august  bodies  that  can  be  found  in  this  or 
any  other  country.  I  represent  a  body  of  blameless,  heroic 
ladies,  whose  glory  it  is  to  be  above  prejudice,  and  capable  of 
self-judgment — ladies  that  are  ladies,  and  wish  to  set  an 
example  of  Christian  womanliness  to  their  own  sex  and  the 
rest  of  mankind,  feeling  that "  the  eyes  of  all  Vermont  are  upon 
them." 

I  am  all  this,  yet  I  feel  the  humiliation  of  thinking  all  the 
better  of  a  man  because  a  great  hullabaloo  of  other  men  have 
declared  before  the  world  that  they  want  him  for  President  of 
these  United  States.  This  is  weak,  but  natural — natural,  but 
awfully  weak.  Why  should  we  let  crowds  of  men  we  never 
saw  judge  for  us?  But  then,  how  are  we  to  judge  for 
ourselves  ? 

After  all,  this  self-government  is  a  difficult  thing  to  carry 
out.  What  man  really  does  govern  himself? — either  through 
his  brain,  or  heart,  some  one  else  governs  him.  He  gives  him 
self  up  by  the  wholesale  to  a  crowd,  or  by  retail  to  his  own 
family. 


Mr.  Greeleys  Nomination.  255 

In  the  parlor  of  our  hotel  last  night  there  was  nothing  but 
confusion  and  commotion.  I  went  down  there  with  Cousin 
E.  E.,  for  we  all  felt  the  glory  that  had  settled  down  on  us  in 
a  reflected  way,  and  longed  to  enjoy  it  before  folks.  So  down 
we  went,  trying  to  look  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter,  but  feel 
ing  the  smiles  quivering  and  playing  about  our  lips  like  lady- 
bugs  about  an  open  rose. 

The  parlors  were  full.  Everybody  had  something  to  say. 
Some  were  smiling,  some  looked  ready  to  cry,  and  others 
looked  grim  as  gunlocks ;  but  most  of  the  faces  we  saw  were 
beaming  like  a  harvest  moon. 

As  for  me,  I  felt— yes,  as  the  poet  says,  "  I  felt— I  felt  like 
a  morning  star." 

"  Well,  Miss  Frost,  how  do  you  like  it?  "  says  a  little  mite 
of  a  woman,  with  pink  ribbons  spreading  out  on  her  bosom. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  the  nomination  ?  " 

"Think?"  says  I.  "Why,  this  is  what  I  think— the  sun 
will  rise  and  set  on  the  top  of  the  Green  Mountains  like  a 
crown  of  glory,  after  this." 

"  Will  Vermont  go  for  him  ?  "  says  another,  cutting  in. 
«  Will  the  mountains  stand  on  their  old  rocky  base  ?  "  says 
I.     "  What  a  question  !  " 
"  Then  you  think  it  will  ?  " 

« Think!  I  know  it  will.  When  did  that  glorious  old 
State  neglect  one  of  her  own  sons  ?  " 

«  But  it's  so  strange  !  "  snivelled  the  little  woman. 
"  Strange  1 "  says  I ;  "  what  is  strange  ?  " 
"  Why,  that  Mr.  Greeley  should  be  nominated." 
"  Well,"  says  I,  with  cutting  irony,  "  do  you  think  it  strange 
that  the  people  of  this  country  should  choose  an  honest  man 
once   in   a  while?    ain't  we   always  ready  to   reward  merit? 
Haven't  we  done  it  in  the  military  way  with  General  Grant? 
Haven't  we  a  right  to  go  into  a  new  field  ?     First  the  sword, 
now  the  pen." 

"  Oh !  not  that ;  but—but—" 
"Well,  but  what?" 


2  56  Mr.  Grc clefs  Nomination. 

'*'  He's  so — so  peculiar." 

:c  Yes,  he  is,"  says  I,  "  if  integrity,  simple  good  faith,  and 
sound  sense  is  peculiar— and  I  begin  to  think  it  is." 

"  Do  you  know  him,  Miss  Frost  ?  " 

I  drew  myself  up,  arid  that  feeling  I  have  spoken  of  came 
over  me.  It  was  a  temptation,  and— well,  I  and  Mrs.  Eve  are 
a  little  alike  in  our  feminine  weaknesses;  I'm  glad  I  have 
Bible  support  in  the  disposition  to  fib  a  little  that  comes  over 
me. 

"  Do  I  know  him  ?  "  said  I.     "  Yes,  intimately." 
«  Ah  !  "  says  she. 

"  You  can  judge  how  intimately,"  says  I,  smitten  with  com 
punction,  and  craw-fishing  down  into  a  deceiving  truth,  "  when 
I  tell  you  that  I  was  an  honored  guest  at  his  birthday 
party." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  says  she. 

I  didn't  feel  bound  to  remind  her  that  I  had  said  so,  and 
only  drew  myself  up  a  trifle,  and  waved  my  fan  back  raid  forth 
with  a  dignified  movement. 

"  And  you  really  think  well  of  him  ?  But,  then,  he  is  an 
editor,  and  authors  always  have  a  sort  of  affinity  for  gentle 
men  of  the  press,"  says  a  pert  yoimg  creature,  twisting  her 
head  011  one  side,  and  coming  up  to  me. 

"  I  think  well  of  him,"  says  I,  "  because  he  is  a  man  that 
has  worked  his  way  up  in  the  world  by  the  hardest ;  studied 
wisdom  from  the  type  he  was  setting,  when  he  had  no  time  for 
books ;  worked  like  a  Trojan  to  support  himself  days,  then  sat 
up  half  the  night  to  improve  his  mind.  Mr.  Greeley  is  in  all 
respects  a  self-made  man.  This  nomination  is  but  the  proper 
and  natural  crown  of  a  busy  life  like  his;  of  integrity  like  his, 
and  of  wisdom  like  his." 

"  You  talk  earnestly,"  says  a  gentleman,  coming  up  into  the 
little  crowd  that  grew  thick  around  me. 

"  Because  I  feel  earnestly,"  says  I,  a-doubling  up  my  fan, 
and  laying  down  the  law  with  it.  "  I  don't  pretend  to  know  a 
great  deal  about  politics,  but  I  do  know  something  about  the 


Mr.  Grcelefs  Nomination.  2 57 

history  of  my  country,  and  it  lias  never  been  better  gov 
erned  than  when  self-made  men  have  ruled  over  it;  but  here 
is  something  more— the  editor  of  a  great  daily  journal  is  gath 
ering  up  knowledge  and  wisdom  every  day  of  his  life.  He  has 
opportunities  for  watching  events  and  judging  of  actions  that 
prepare  his  own  mind  for  the  exercise  of  power  when  it  comes. 
«  Why,"  says  I,  warming  up,  «  the  greatest  statesmen  that  you 
have  are  editors  and  self-made  men.  The  fact  is,  men  who 
have  worked  their  own  way  in  the  world,  haven't  time  to  be 
rogues,  and  very  seldom  are  even  grasping.  It  is  your  lazy 
fellow,  who  lives  by  the  cunning  that  he  calls  wits,  who  is  not 
to  be  trusted.  For  my  part,  as  two  candidates  have  to  be  in 
the  field  to  have  a  good  run,  I  am  glad  that  those  Cincinnati 
folks  had  the  sense  to  take  a  man  right  out  of  the  bosom  of 
the  people  to  govern  the  people.  Brought  up  so  close  to  the 
public  heart,  he'll  know  how  it  beats.  Having  been  a  work 
ing  man,  he'll  know  how  to  feel  for  toilers  like  himself,  just 
as  General  Grant  now  feels  for  the  soldiers." 

«  You  talk  like  a  book,"  says  the  young  lady,  a-twisting  her 
head  the  other  way. 

«  I  didn't  know  till  you  told  me,  miss,  that  books  did  talk, 
says  I,  opening  my  fan  again. 

«  Oh,  yes,  they  do,"  says  she,  giggling. 

«  Bound  to  talk,  I  suppose,"  says  I,  a-smiling  in  my  usual 
bland  way. 

They  all  laughed  at  this,  but  the  girl  looked  around  as  if  she 
wondered  what  it  was  all  about. 

I  just  made  a  little  inclination  of  the  head,  and  went  on : 
« We  were  speaking  of  self-made  men,  I  think,"  says  I ; 
"  such  men  have  drifted  away  from  New  England,  like  shoot 
ing  stars.  Wherever  they  may  shine,  New  England  is  proud 
of  them,  and  claims  them  as  her  own ;  for  this  reason  ;  and  be 
cause  I  love  my  country,  I  am  glad  Horace  Greeley  is  on  the 
highway  to  be  its  next  President.  "With  him  and  Grant  run- 
ning  neck  to  neck,  I  shan't  care  much  which  beats." 


258  Women  and  Tilings. 


LXI. 


WOMEN   AND    THINGS. 

jjEAR  SISTERS: — I  wish  you  could  have  seen  that 
stuck-up  thing,  with  all  the  color  taken  out  of  her 
hair,  perking  herself  up  for  an  argument  with  me. 
All  the  people  in  the  room  had  crowded  round  us,  which  set 
her  all  in  a  nutter. 

"  Oh,  pray  excuse  me,"  says  she,  a-shaking  her  curls,  li  we 
are  broaching  into  politics,  and  I  assure  you,"  says  she, 
a-primming  herself  up,  "  I  know  nothing  about  such  subjects." 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  you  speak  as  if  ignorance  were  something 
to  be  proud  of." 

"  I — I  do  not  pretend  to  know  anything  of  politics,  at  any 
rate,"  says  she,  a-coloriiig  up  with  inward  madness. 

"  Indeed,  what  is  politics,"  says  I.  li  The  history  of  the 
present  ?  Why  should  the  most  refined  lady  on  earth  be  igno 
rant  of  one  period  of  history  more  than  another  ?  " 

"  Politics  are  things  going  on  at  the  present  time,  and  no 
real  lady  is  expected  to  take  interest  in  them,"  says  she. 

"  What  is  the  present  time  ?  The  breath  we  are  drawing — 
nothing  more.  That  very  breath  has  now  gone  into  the  past, 
which  is  history.  All  the  rest  is  guess-work  and  prophecy," 
says  I. 

tl  Dear  me,  how  strong-minded  you  are,"  says  she,  giving 
her  curls  a  toss  ;  "I  suppose  you  would  be  splendidly  eloquent 
on  Woman's  Rights  too." 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  all  my  life  I  have  had  more  rights  than  T 
have  known  how  to  use,  so  I  leave  that  question  to  persons 
who  have  no  better  field  of  ambition.  Mine  happens  to  be  of 
a  different  kind.  I  want  to  make  women  wise,  good,  generous, 
faithful  to  duties  that  come  down  to  them  from  their  mothers. 
I  want  to  improve  women,  miss,  not  turn  them  into  contempt 
ible  men." 


Women  and  Things.  259 

"  By  talking  politics  ?  "  says  she,  as  saucy  as  a  sour  apple ; 
"  what  is  the  good  of  that  if  you  don't  go  in  for  voting?  " 

"  What  is  the  good  of  any  knowledge  which  may  be  turned 
into  blessings  by  woman's  influence  ?  "  says  I,  blandly. 

"  Then  you  believe  that  women  ought  to  have  influence  in 
politics,"  says  she. 

"  I  think  that  women  should  have  influence  everywhere," 
said  I,  "  but  only  as  women.  We  are  governed  through  the 
heart,  and  those  finer  portions  of  the  intellect  that  people  call 
taste.  Men  plant  the  grain  and  timber  of  every-day  life  with 
their  strong  hands,  which  God  made  for  that  very  purpose. 
We  women  fill  in  the  hollows  and  crevices  and  swelling  banks 
with  flowers  and  ferns  and  delicate  shade-trees,  which  make 
the  vigorous  work  of  their  strong  hands  beautiful." 

Sisters,  I  said  this  to  that  stuck-up  girl  because  I  wanted  to 
express  an  opinion  on  this  subject — first,  because  it  was  my 
opinion,  and  again,  because  I  know  that  it  is  yours,  going  as 
you  do  for  it  in  a  spirit  of  feminine  spontaneosity.  I  don't 
want  the  nature  of  our  Society  misunderstood.  We  are  not 
Woman's  Righters,  nor  Woman's  Wrongers,  but  straight  out 
women,  wanting  nothing  better  on  this  earth  than  to  be  just 
as  God  made  us,  with  a  full,  free,  and  generous  development  of 
all  the  femininities  that  belong  to  the  sex. 

For  my  part,  I  don't  want  to  be  a  man ;  his  work  is  too  rough 
and  hard  for  me.  His  thoughts  have  too  heavy  and  coarse  a 
grain.  His  clothes  wouldn't  fit  me  any  better  than  his  thoughts 
and  duties. 

We  being  women,  according  to  a  beneficent  God's  intention, 
have  got  enough  to  occupy  a  whole  life  in  the  same  path  that 
our  good  old  New  England  mothers  trod.  We  don't  want  to 
get  out  of  that  path  into  any  other,  and  we  don't  mean  to  en 
tice  the  children  that  are  growing  up  amongst  us  into  an  idea 
that  pure-thinking,  hard-working  womanliness  isn't  the  highest 
and  best  destiny  that  God  has  yet  given  to  his  creatures. 

I  have  no  patience  with  women  who  scorn  their  own  sex  so 
much  that  they  would  rather  turn  into  weak,  meddlesome 


260  Women  and  Things. 

men  than  work,  study,  bring  up  children,  and  live  as  high- 
souled,  loving  women  should.  As  for  voting  and  all  that,  it's 
just  turning  gold  into  brass,  and  getting  nothing  but  the  baser 
metal  for  change. 

Why,  influence  is  a  thousand  times  sweeter  and  more  certain 
thriii  legal  power,  and  that  is  given  to  every  woman  who  loves 
and  is  beloved. 

As  for  my  part,  I  should  be  ashamed  if  I  couldn't  persuade 
ever  so  many  men  to  do  any  right  thing  I  wanted.  Shouldn't 
I  be  a  fool  to  swap  off  that  influence  for  the  rights  that  only 
one  man  owns  for  himself? 

If  women  want  power,  let  them  be  sweet,  good,  and  persua 
sive,  wise  enough  to  have  their  opinions  command  respect,  and 
bright  enough  to  enforce  them  pleasantly.  That  is  the  way  to 
move  nations,  if  the  mind  of  woman  ever  can  do  it.  At  any 
rate,  it  is  the  way  to  govern  families  and  make  them  respectable 
in  the  next  generation ;  and  out  of  families  nations  are  made. 

"  Have  you  ever  noticed  one  thing  ?  "  says  I  to  the  people 
about  me.  il  Whenever  women  get  dissatisfied  with  themselves 
and  hanker  after  the  rights  of  men,  the  very  foundations  of  life 
seem  to  be  Breaking  up  all  around  us.  Marriage  ties  fall  into 
ashes  like  fire  in  hatcheled  flax,  morals  are  burned  up,  families 
torn  to  pieces,  and  society  falls  into  revolt  against  law  and 
religion.  When  women  begin  to  hanker  after  votes,  they 
hanker  after  divorces  too,  and,  while  they  want  unlimited 
power  with  men,  throw  away  the  noblest  of  all  power  over  men 
— that  of  honest  respect  and  a  sacred  consciousness  of  pro 
tecting." 

If  women  will  break  thoough  all  the  delicate  safeguards  and 
childlike  purity  which  keeps  them  so  much  above  men,  that 
they  are  aspired  after  and  worshipped,  let  them  take  the  con 
sequences.  To  be  hustled  in  conventions,  hissed  off  from  plat 
forms,  and  received  with  hidden  sneers  by  three-fourths  of  hian- 
kind,  doesn't  seem  to  me  half  so  pleasant  and  respectable  a?  the 
friendship  of  one's  neighbors,  and  the  love  of  one's  own  family ; 
but,  if  they  like  it  better,  I  haven't  the  least  mite  of  an  objec- 


Women  and  Things.  261 

tion.  Only  such  things  force  an  honest  woman  into  awful  bad 
company  once  in  a  while,  and  it  sometimes  happens  that  ambi 
tion  leads  them  to  shake  hands  with  persons  that  sweet  charity 
itself  could  never  persuade  the  best  of  them  to  touch  with  a 
ten-foot  pole. 

"  Don't  think,"  says  I, (( that  I  go  against  female  progress,  or 
would  stop  its  infinite  capabilities — far  from  it.  There  are 
questions  mixed  up  with  this  subject  that  ought  to  have  our 
warmest  sympathy  and  most  ardent  help.  Female  labor  is  one 
of  them,  and  in  that  lies  the  greatest  moral  question  of  these 
times. 

f(  When  a  woman  finds  herself  doing  the  work  nature  carved 
out  for  her,  with  a  man  crowding  her  out,  doing  no  more,  yet 
getting  double  pay,  only  because  he  happens  to  be  a  man,  it 
is  a  burning  shame  and  disgrace  to  both  sexes.  If  that  in 
justice  can't  be  swept  away  by  fair  means,  I  go  in  for  trying 
any  that  a  female  woman  can  handle  without  bringing  herself 
down  to  a  level  with  the  males  who  seem  to  be  as  sick  of  being 
men  as  some  of  our  sex  are  of  being  women. 

11  Still,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  best  way  of  doing  this  is  by 
such  appeals  for  justice  as  have  brought  the  women  of  New 
York  State  more  freedom  than  they  know  what  to  do  with. 
At  this  day  there  is  no  legal  slavery  for  any  woman  in  the  great 
Empire  State.  The  fact  if,  the  women  there  have  got  their  feet 
on  the  necks  of  the  men.  But  this  don't  satisfy  them,  and 
they  are  all  the  time  crying  out  for  more,  as  the  Scripture  says, 
like  the  leeches — which  is  a  passage  of  Scripture  that  I  never 
have  quite  understood,  because  leeches  in  our  day  suck  your 
blood  without  asking,  and  I  never  yet  heard  of  one  who  went 
farther  than  a  bite  in  the  way  of  crying  out. 

" Excuse  me,"  says  I,  drawing  breath,  "if  I  sometimes 
digress,  and  turn  down  a  Scripture  path  in  search  of  scientific 
truth  or  illustration.  I  was  saying  that  a  woman  in  New  York 
State  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  master  of  herself — herself 
and  husband  too.  If  she  has  money  when  a  poor  fellow  mar 
ries  her,  it  is  all  her  own  to  do  with  as  she  has  a  mind  to, 


262  Women  and  Things. 

just  as  mucli  as  if  she  had  never  been  married  at  all.  Bui  he 
has  to  support  her,  anyway,  keep  up  the  house,  pay  all  the 
bills,  settle  her  debts,  if  she  is  mean  enough  to  make  them, 
and  she  can  be  hoarding  up  her  own  money  all  the  time,  while 
he  has  no  more  right  to  touch  a  cent  of  it  than  the  man  in  the 
moon. 

"  More  than  this ;  when  he  dies,  she  comes  in  for  a  full  third 
of  his  real  estate  for  life,  and  has  half  his  personal  property, 
to  sell,  give  away,  or  do  with  as  she  pleases.  If  she  dies,  he 
cannot  touch  a  red  cent.  Then,  again,  she  can  sell  all  the  real 
estate  that  belongs  to  her,  without  so  much  as  asking  his  advice, 
but  he  cannot  sell  an  acre  or  a  wood-shed,  and  give  a  clear  title, 
without  her  written  name  to  the  deed.  Then,  again,  if  he 
earns  money,  the  law  makes  him  support  her;  if  she  earns 
money,  he  has  no  right  to  a  cent  of  it. 

"  Poor,  downtrodden  'creatures  are  these  women  of  New 
York  State — don't  you  think  so,"  says  I.  "Is  it  a  wonder 
they  get  dissatisfied  with  their  hardships,  and  hanker  after  more 
power,  more  freedom,  and  less  work  ?  When  marriage  is  so 
profitable,  is  it  strange  that  some  of  them  want  a  great  deal  of 
it,  and  go  through  the  divorce  courts  three  or  four  times  with 
a  rush,  picking  up  scraps  of  alimony  and  leaving  scraps  of 
reputation  along  the  way. 

"  If  it  wasn't  that  I  mean  to  stand  by  my  own  sex  through 
thick  and  thin,  I  should  say  that  the  laws  lean  a  trifle  over  on 
the  woman's  side  in  York  State ;  but,  being  a  woman,  I  keep  a 
lively  thinking,  while  the  other  poor,  downtrodden  souls  rush 
to  the  women's  rights  meetings,  and  wring  their  hands  in 
desperation  over  the  wrongs  I  have  just  explained." 

"  But  what  has  this  to  do  with  your  Society  ?  "  says  Cousin 
E.  E. 

tf  Everything.  We  are  in  for  Infinite  Progress.  We  want 
women  to  be  all  that  God  intended  them  to  be — the  full  com 
panions  and  helpmates  of  men.  We  want  them  to  cultivate  all 
the  Christian  and  kindly  virtues,  not  only  because  they  make 
women  lovely  and  beloved,  but  because  men  are  humanized, 


A    Trip  to  Annapolis.  263 

softened,  and  made  better  by  such  help  and  such  companion 
ship.  "When  men  seek  peace,  rest,  the  inspirations  of  prayer, 
they  turn  at  once  to  us  for  tender  guidance  and  sympathy. 
Would  they  do  that  if  we  elbowed  them  at  the  polls,  or  held 
knock-down  arguments  at  the  primary  elections  ?  No,  no ! 
If  we  can  soften  human  misery,  strengthen  weakness,  make 
women  wiser  and  men  better,  it  is  all  that  the  best  woman 
among  us  can  ask." 

Sisters,  I  had  got  too  much  in  earnest.  I  felt  the  blood 
come  like  a  dash  of  wine  into  my  face.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if 
I  were  on  a  platform,  lecturing,  and  the  thought  covered  me 
with  confusion,  like  a  crimson  garment.  I  bent  my  head 
slightly,  and  went  away  dreadfully  ashamed  of  myself. 


LXII. 

A    TRIP    TO    ANNAPOLIS. 

SISTERS: — Another  of  those  pleasant  excur- 
sional  entertainments  which  this  nation  gives  to  genius 
in  the  female  line  has  been  offered  to  me,  and  I  ac 
cepted.  For  my  part,  I  think  the  country  ought  to  be  en 
couraged  in  giving  these  little  testimonials  to  her  favored 
children.  She  hasn't  done  much  of  that  in  former  years,  but 
has  practised  a  good  deal  more  on  foreigners  than  she  has  ever 
thought  of  doing  where  home-made  writers  are  concerned. 

Them  Japanee  potentials  always  seem  to  go  along  when  an 
entertainment  is  got  up  for  me,  and>  if  that  didn't  rather  mix 
things  up,  I  should  be  glad  of  it;  for  Mr.  Iwakura  is  just 
splendid  in  his  black  coat  and  stovepipe  hat,  and  talks  beauti 
fully  with  his  little  black  eyes ;  I  feel  it  in  my  bones  he  has  not 
left  a  heathenish  impediment  behind,  or  anything  that  ought  to 


264  A   Trip  to  Annapolis. 

stand  between  him  and  a  wife  who  might  carry  fresh  mission 
ary  spirit  into  his  benighted  land. 

Of  course,  all  the  other  Japanees  were  on  hand,  and  seemed 
to  feel  proud  and  chipper,  as  if  the  party  had  be^ii  made  for 
them  instead  ,of  me ;  but  I  didn't  mind  that  a  bit.  Even  if 
they  did  think  so,  what  harm  ?  There  is  so  much  happiness 
in  delusions,  that  I  wouldn't  rob  those  nice-looking  heathens 
of  one  for  the  world. 

Besides  the  Japanees,  a  very  distinguished  party  had  been 
invited  to  go  with  me,  and  I  couldn't  help  but  feel  the  whole 
thing  a  triumph. 

There  was  Postmaster-General  Creswell,  with  a  head  of  hair 
and  a  beard  that  warmed  you,  it  was  so  silky  and  bright. 
There  was  his  wife,  too,  a  real  pretty  creature,  with  manners 
as  sweet  as  her  face ;  and  Mrs.  Fish,  almost  a  mate  for  a  lady 
I  will  not  name  for  queenliness ;  and  Governor  Cook  with  his 
wife.  Besides  these,  there  were  lots  of  young  people,  and  old 
people,  and  middle-aged  people,  filling  car  after  car,  till  we  had 
a  whole  train  all  to  ourselves.  The  party  was  large,  but  so  is 
a  genuine  New  England  heart,  and  I  managed  to  make  them 
all  welcome  in  an  off-handed,  queenly  way,  which  I  hope  was 
understood.  It  certainly  was  by  Mr.  Iwakura,  who  lifted  his 
stovepipe  hat  and  bowed  like  a  native  Vermonter  before  he 
sat  down. 

Sisters,  I  do  think  there  is  a  meaning'in  that — a  Japanee  isn't 
likely  to  study  the  elegancies  of  our  manners  for  nothing. 
Still,  I  wish  he  wasn't  a  heathen.  The  Greek  Church  of 
Russia  sat  heavy  on  my  conscience,  but  a  heathen  !  I  shall 
have  to  meet  all  this  politeness  with  the  icy  chill  of  Christian 
reserve,  unless — the  thing  is  possible,  for,  to  love,  all  things 
are  so — that  heathen  should  adopt  our  religion  with  the  stove 
pipe  hat. 

There  was  a  thing  that  troubled  me  a  good  deal  before  I 
came  away  from  the  hotel  that  morning.  I  have  been  told 
that  Mr.  Grant  and  our  Vermont  statesman  have  got  up  a 
little  spirit  of  rivalry  about  being  President — a  thing  I  never 


A  .Trip  to  Annapolis.  26$ 

..-*.. 

dreamed  of,  they  seemed  such  good  friends,  and,  till  now,  I 
thought  Mr.  Grant  had  kind  of  half  invited  his  old  friend  to 
take  the  chair.  But  it  isn't  so  by  any  manner  of  means,  and 
I'm  afraid  there  may  be  some  little  dispute  about  it  in  the 
end,  which  will  be  unpleasant  to  those  who  like  them  both. 

Now,  sisters,  here  comes  in  the  benefit  of  being  a  female, 
which  is  great  in  such  perplexing  cases.  Female  women  are 
not  expected  to  be  consistent,  and  they're  not  expected  to  take 
sides  for  any  great  length  of  time.  They  can  just  climb  any 
fence  that  comes  handy,  and  sit  on  it  with  the  dignity  of  hen 
turkeys  at  sundown  if  they  have  a  mind  to,  and  no  one  has  a 
right  to  scare  them  up.  But,  considering  myself  as  an  ex 
ceptional  female,  whose  duty  it  is  to  have  ideas,  I  scorn  the 
fence,  and  come  right  up  to  the  crib,  corn  or  no  corn. 

It  is  a  duty  I  owe  to  the  State,  and  from  that  I  shall  never 
turn  aside.  Besides — I  own  it  boldly — in  this  case  duty  and  a 
hilarious  state  of  pleasure  unite  and  make  me  jubilant  as  a 
Fourth  of  July  salute.  I  like  Greeley  because  he  is  first-rate 
as  an  author,  an  editor,  and  a  man.  I  admire  Grant  as  a  brave 
soldier  and  as  a  man  too,  but  then,  the  old  State  !  I  don't  care 
who  knows  it — from  this  day  out,  white  is  my  color. 

But,  feeling  this  in  my  very  bones,  how  could  I  accept  the 
great  national  compliment  of  a  special  train  filled  with  admir 
ing  friends  from  the  Government,  which  is  General  Grant  ? 

I  spoke  of  this  to  Cousin  Dempster,  and,  says  he : 

"This  makes  no  difference  in  the  world.  Take  all  you  can 
from  the  Government.  That  is  high  patriotism." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Cousin,"  says  I,  "it  kind  of  seems  to  me  that  this  special 
train  is  a  sort  of  a  trap.  How  can  I,  a  free-born  Yermonter — 
national  in  some  respects,  and  brimming  over  with  first-class 
patriotism,  but  Vermont  to  the  back-bone — first  and  foremost, 
lead  off  a  party  like  this,  one  car  choke  full  of  Mr.  Grant's 
cabinet  people.  Now,  if  Mr.  Greeley  and  Mr.  Grant  should 
rile  up  against  each  other — which  I  hope  they  won't — don't 
you  see  that  I  am  in  an  awful  mixed  position  ? — the  National 
12 


266  A  Trip  to  Annapolis. 

Government  on  one  side  with  that  stupendous  soldier  at  the 
head,  and  that  great  white-hatted  Vermonter  on  the  other  ?  " 

((  That  is,  you  want  to  be  neutral,"  says  Dempster. 

"Well,  yes — kind  of  neutral,"  says  I,  "and  a  little  for 
both." 

"  Not  exactly  on  the  fence,  but  cautious,"  says  he ;  "  keep 
your  boat  in  harbor  till  the  tide  rises  and  the  wind  blows,  then 
hoist  sail  and  catch  up  with  the  old  craft  that  has  been  tugging 
on  in  shallow  water  ?  " 

"  No,"  says  I,  feeling  the  old  Puritan  blood  beginning  to 
boil  up.  "  That  may  answer  for  some  people,  but  not  for  me. 
An  idea  has  just  struck  me  ;  a  woman's  political  ideas  should 
be  suggested,  not  proclaimed." 

Without  speaking  another  word,  I  put  on  my  things,  went 
right  down  to  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  bought  a  soft  white 
hat,  a  little  broad  in  the  brim,  which  I  turned  up  on  one  side. 
Then  I  went  into  a  milliner's  store,  carrying  it  in  my  hand, 
and  made  a  woman  curl  a  long  white  feather  over  the  crown, 
which  gave  the  whole  affair  a  touch  of  the  beehive,  stamping  it 
with  beautiful  femininity. 

With  this  hat  on  my  head,  and  a  double-breasted  white 
jacket  over  my  black  alpaca,  I  took  my  honored  place  in  the 
cars  that  day. 

Of  course  I  sat  in  the  cabinet  car,  feeling  myself  the  sole 
representative  of  Vermont  in  that  august  company.  The  ladies 
looked  at  me  sidewise  when  I  came  in ;  some  of  the  cabinet 
men  half  winked  at  each  other  and  tried  to  smile.  But  that 
white  hat  was  no  laughing  matter,  and  they  wilted  down  before 
it. 


Among  the  Cadets.  267 


LXIII. 

AMONG   THE    CADETS. 

|EAR,  SISTERS :— The  train  started,  and  there  I  sat 
in  my  glory  till  we  got  to  Annapolis,  just  the  sleepiest 
town,  crowded  full  of  the  oldest  houses  and  the  slow 
est  people  that  I  ever  saw  in  my  born  days.  Some  colored 
persons  were  dawdling  around  the  depot,  and  a  few  lazy  white 
folks  passing  down  the  street,  stopped  to  look  at  us  as  we  got 
out  of  the  cars.  Especially  my  white  hat  and  double-breasted 
jacket  seemed  to  take  them. 

Once  I  heard  something  that  sounded  like  the  beginning  of 
a  cheer,  but  the  voices  were  so  lazy  that  they  couldn't  carry  it 
out,  so  it  muttered  itself  to  death,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it. 

Twenty  of  the  Japanees  were  with  me  when  I  alighted  from 
the  car  and  spread  my  white  parasol,  which  hovered  like  a 
dove  over  us,  for  I  made  it  flutter  beautifully  as  we  passed 
along. 

The  cabinet  people  followed  after,  and  just  as  we  were  form 
ing  to  go  down  street,  like  a  military  training,  my  white  hat 
and  feather  leading  them  on,  a  gentleman  came  up  to  us  and 
began  to  shake  hands  all  round.  He  was  a  tall,  genteel  sort 
of  a  person,  with  light  hair  and  a  beard  soft  and  silky  as  corn 
tassels ;  but  all  under  his  eyes,  blue  powder  marks  were  scat 
tered,  as  if  he'd  spent  half  his  life  firing  off  Fourth  of  July 
powder  salutes,  and  had  burst  up  on  some  of  them. 

While  I  was  wondering  who  it  could  be,  Mr.  Robeson,  who 
has  some  dealings  with  navy  yards  and  shipping,  come  up  to 
where  I  stood,  and  says  he  : 

((  Miss  Frost,  allow  me  to  present  Commodore  Worden,  the 
gentleman  who  distinguished  himself  on  the  first  Monitor." 

Sisters,  that  minute  the  powder  marks  on  Worden's  hand 
some  face  were  glorified  in  my  eyes.  I  reached  out  my  hands. 
I  pressed  his,  my  beaming  eyes  covered  him  with  particular 


268        ,  Among  the  Cadets. 

admiration.  Feeling  as  if  I  were  the  colonel  of  that  company, 
I  longed  to  lift  my  white  hat  and  give  him  a  military  salute. 
What  I  did  say  was  significant. 

"  Worden,"  says  I,  "when  certain  events  come  about — I 
say  nothing,  but  this  hat  and  jacket  are  typical  of  what  I 
mean — when  these  great  and  luminous  events  fill  the  hemi 
sphere  your  glorious  bravery  on  that  iron  flat-boat  shall  have 
its 'full  record.  I  will  myself  send  your  picture  to  the  great 
Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Russias,  and  if  there  is  a  higher  notch 
in  the  public  shipping  than  you  have,  I  know  nothing  of  the 
friend  whose  colors  I  wear  if  anybody  stands  before  you.  I 
have  seen  the  picture  of  your  Monitor.  To  my  eye  it  looks 
like  a  flat-iron,  with  the  handle  in  the  water;  but  it  did  good 
work,  and  so  did  you.  Grant  knows  it.  My  own  immortal 
statesman  will  appreciate  it." 

Commodore  Worden  bowed,  and  smiled,  and  squoze  my  hand 
so  long  that  I  began  to  feel  anxious  about  my  white  gloves. 
But  he  dropped  it  at  last,  and  we  all  moved  on,  my  white 
feather  waving  in  front,  just  like  that  which  King  Henry  of 
Navarre  wore  in  battles.  Only  mine  was  a  peaceful  emblem, 
dyed  in  the  milk  of  human  kindness,  and  curled  up  in  the 
sunshine  of  prosperity. 

We  marched  through  dull  streets  and  round  deserted  cor 
ners,  cutting  in  and  out  every  which  way  till  we  came  to  a 
large  gate,  which  shut  the  Navy  Yard  out  from  the  rest  of 
mankind. 

Then  we  filed  through  into  a  beautiful  meadow,  with  the 
grass  cut  short,  sprinkled  over  with  trees,  and  cut  into  foot 
paths.  Part  of  it  was  bounded  by  water,  the  rest  by  rows  of 
handsome  houses  and  great  buildings  that  looked  like  factories 
shut  up  for  want  of  work. 

The  minute  'I  and  Mr.  Iwakura  walked  through  the  gate, 
bang !  went  a  cannon ;  bang,  bang,  bang !  seventeen  times. 

"  What  on  earth  is  that  ?  "  says  I,  turning  to  Dempster,  who 
was  just  behind  me. 

"  It  is  a  salute  for  us,"  says  he. 


Among  the  Cadets.  269 

"  Us  !  "  says  I,  with  accents  of  disdain  that  put  him  in  his 
place  at  once. 

"  For  you,  then,"  says  he,  smiling  in  a  way  I  didn't  like, 
for,  having  no  envy  in  my  own  disposition,  I  cannot  endure  it 
in  others. 

Mr.  Iwakura  and  I  walked  on  slowly.  He  looked  at  me 
and  smiled  as  the  guns  kept  going  off,  till  I  counted  seventeen ; 
then  they  stopped  and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  1  remembered  that 
our  meeting-house  bell  tolls  once  for  every  year,  when  a  per 
son  dies,  and  I  felt  a  little  anxious  about  the  number  of  guns 
they  might  pile  on  to  live  folks.  But  they  stopped  short  at 
seventeen,  which  is  an  age  no  girl  need  be  ashamed  to  own, 
and  which  showed  how  young  some  persons  can  look  in  spite 
of  hard  literary  toil. 

Well,  first  we  went  into  Commodore  "Warden's  house,  where 
Mr.  Iwakura  and  I  were  introduced  to  Mrs.  Worden  and  some 
other  ladies.  Then  the  rest  came  in  for  a  little  notice,  and  we 
filed  off  into  the  grounds  again,  where  there  was  a  general 
training  of  boys  in  blue  jackets,  with  buttons  and  things,  all 
armed  with  guns,  which  they  handled  like  old  militia  men. 
Sometimes,  when  they  poked  their  guns  right  at  us,  I  kind  of 
got  behind  Mr.  Iwakura,  who,  being  small,  wasn't  much  of  a 
shelter,  but  better  than  nothing.  In  fact,  I  was  rather  glad 
when  this  part  of  the  fun  died  out. 

After  this,  we  went  into  one  of  the  big  houses  where  the 
blue  boys  live,  and  a  whole  lot  of  little,  make-believe  ships 
were  shown  to  us,  and  two  Japanee  boys  told  Mr.  I.  how  they 
were  worked — which  would  have  been  interesting,  only  we 
didn't  know  a  word  of  that  language,  nor  much  about  the 
baby-house  of  ships,  and  didn't  listen  to  what  was  said  in 
English. 

Then  the  boys  in  blue  and  buttons  went  into  the  meadow 
again,  and  got  out  a  lot  of  small  cannon,  and  banged,  and  ran 
in  lines  and  squads  down  to  the  river,  as  if  they  were  awful 
mad  with  the  water  and  meant  to  dam  it — dam  it  up,  I  wish 
you  to  understand,  for  even  indirect  profanity  isn't  in  my  nature. 


270  Among  the  Cadets. 

After  this,  we  all  went  clown  to  a  great,  lumbering  old  ship, 
which  is  all  the  home  these  blue  boys  have  the  first  year  they 
come  to  the  Annapolis  school,  which,  being  a  sailor  institu 
tion,  gives  them  a  taste  for  creeping  into  holes  and  sleeping  on 
a  yard  or  two  of  rope  swung  to  the  ship's  beams — which  may 
be  pleasant  fun,  but  doesn't  look  like  it. 

Sisters,  it  was  getting  along  in  the  day,  and,  though  in  a 
certain  sense  spiritualized  by  genius,  I  was  hungry.  Mr. 
Iwakura,  too,  had. a  pitiful  look  in  his  black  eyes;  but  a  storm 
of  music  called  us  from  hankering  thoughts,  and  we  all  streamed, 
at  a  faster  double-quick  than  the  boys  could  show,  into  the 
great  dining-room  of  one  of  the  big  houses.  A  splendid  table 
was  set  out  there,  which  we  gathered  round  like  a  half-starved 
regiment  on  training-day.  Then  began  such  a  practice  in  cider 
bottles,  flying  corks,  and  cider  foaming  and  fizzing  into  glasses, 
as  beat  all  the  cannon  and  howitzer  blazings  of  the  day — for 
that  ended  in  something,  and  the  rest  didn't. 

It  is  astonishing  what  effect  eating  and  drinking  has  on  the 
feet ;  I  could  hardly  keep  from  dancing  all  the  way  from  that 
dining-hall  -to  the  other  building,  which  is  kept  especially  for 
dancing.  Well,  we  did  dance,  for  the  music  just  took  one 
right  into  the  midst  of  it,  want  to  or  not.  Besides,  we  hadn't 
been  to  a  tomb,  and  nobody  had  been  killed,  so  we  just  went 
in  for  it.  My  alpaca  dress  isn't  over  long,  and  I  wasn't  afraid 
of  showing  my  feet  when  there  was  no  train  to  tangle  them 
up.  We  danced  with  our  bonnets  and  hats  on — we  ladies,  I 
mean — and  the  way  my  white  feather  rose  and  fell  and  flut 
tered  over  the  rest  was  enough  to  wake  up  the  American  heart 
*n  every  bosom  present. 


American  Authors.  271 


LXIY. 

AMERICAN   AUTHORS. 

[jEAE,  SISTERS  :— You  have  heard  of  Mr.  Shakespeare, 
a  writer  of  old  England,  who  died,  years  and  years 
ago,  in  a  little  country  place  in  England.  He  was 
celebrated  for  several  things  besides  writing.  Going  to  sleep 
under  trees  is  one  of  them ;  shooting  deer  that  belonged  to 
somebody  else — who  took  him  up  and  made  an  awful  time 
ah  out  it  before  a  justice  of  the  peace,  who  fined  him,  or  some 
thing — is  another.  Then,  again,  he  married  an  elderly  girl,  and 
forgot  to  live  with  her  ever  so  long.  While  she  stayed  at 
home,  he  went  up  to  London,  and  wrote  plays  and  played  them 
before  her  Majesty  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  ought  to  have  re 
minded  him  of  his  married  elderly  girl,  being  her  own  royal 
self  of  that  class,  only  not  married.  There  is  no  reason  to 
think  she  did  have  much  influence  in  that  direction  though, 
for  that  particular  queen  was  more  celebrated  for  keeping  hus 
bands  away  from  their  wives  -than  bringing  them  cosily  to 
gether. 

The  truth  is,  from  the  very  first — when  she  got  up  a  series 
of  romping  platonics  with  Lord  Seymour,  her  step-mother's 
husband,  to  her  last,  gray-headed  old  flirtation  with  the 
young  Essex — her  taste  ran  against  the  practical  idea  of  hus 
bands  living  with  their  own  wives.  That  non-matrimonial 
creature  may  have  tried  her  power  on  Shakespeare — who 
knows  ? 

Sisters,  there  is  one  part  of  this  man's  life  and  character  that 
may  shock  your  religious  feelings.  He  wrote  plays  •  he  acted 
plays  too  •  and  that  female  queen  encouraged  him  in  it.  Now, 
ever  since  I  went  to  see  the  "  Black  Crook,"  I  scorn  myself 
for  ever  having  one  mite  of  charity  for  such  things,  and  I 
haven't  the  conscience  to  say  one  word  in  their  favor  to  you, 
as  a  Society.  Still,  this  Mr.  Shakespeare  did  write  some  things 


272  American  Authors. 

that  might  nave  sounded  tolerably  well  in  a  lecture  or  a  sermon 
that  wasn't  too  strictly  doctrinal. 

Last  night  I  was  talking  with  a  lawyer  from  away  "  Out  West," 
who  spoke  real  kindly  about  Mr.  Shakespeare's  writings,  and 
seemed  to  think  if  he  had  put  off  being  born  until  now,  and  settled 
"  Out  West,"  where  he  could  have  given  him  a  hint  now  and 
then,  he  might  have  made  a  first-rate  literary  man.  "  Even  as 
it  is,"  says  he,  "  I  do  my  best  to  make  him  popular,  for  he  wrote 
some  very  readable  things — very  readable,  indeed.  For  in 
stance,  not  long  since,  in  an  exciting  slander  case,  I  quoted 
these  lines,  with  a  burning  eloquence  that  lifted  the  judge  right 
off  from  his  bench  : 

"  '  He,'  says  I,  '  that  steals  my  purse,  steals  stuff ; 
'Twas  something,  faint  nothing,  t'was  mine, 
'Tis  hisen,  and  has  been  slave  to  thousands  ; 
But  he  that  hooketh  from  me  my  good  name, 
Grabs  that  which  don't  do  him  no  good, 
But  makes  me  feel  very  bad  indeed. '  " 

"  Is  that  the  genuine  old  English  that  Mr.  Shakespeare  wrote 
ia,?"saysl. 

"  Oh,  that  is  the  beauty  of  it,"  says  he.  "  Shakspeare  was 
no  doubt  a  very  respectable  writer,  but  perfection  is  the  watch 
word  of  modern  progress.  Of  course  one  doesn't  introduce  a 
quotation  of  his  without  all  the  modern  improvements.  Shake 
speare — " 

*<  Mr.  Shakspeare,"  says  I,  determined  to  keep  up  the  dig 
nity  of  authorship  with  my  last  breath. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Shakspeare  would  have  made  a  very  superior 
writer  if  he  had  lived  in.  this  country  and  been  fostered  by  an 
American  Congress." 

"  An  American  Congress,"  says  I.  "  What  on  earth  did 
that  ever  do  for  writers  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  it  publish  books  for  the  members  to  give  away. 
Isn't  that  encouraging  literature  ?  " 

I  said  nothing,  never  having  read  one  of  the  books  in  my 
life,  and  never  having  seen  any  one  that  had. 


American  Authors. 

"  Then,"  says  he,  «  hasn't  every  man  that  can  write  the  life 
of  a  President  these  United  State,  before  his  *«-£» 
made  an  ambassador,  or  counsel,  or  something?   Didn  t  Pier 
send  Hawthorne  to  Liverpool,  not  because  of  hxs  transcendant 
genius,  but  for  the  reason  that  he  had  written  a  paltry  1, 

himself?  " 

«  Mr  Hawthorne,"  says  I,  with  expressive  emphasis 
«  And  didn't  General  Grant  send  Colonel  Badeau  to  Lon 

after  his  life  was  taken  by  that  young  man?" 

«  I  give  in,"  says  I  ;  '<  the  literature  of  this  country  has  been 

fostered  beautifully.     Hawthorne  was  rewarded  for  degrading 

the  finest  genius  this  country  has  ever  known,  by  wrrting  a 
ommonpUcelife  of  a  ordinary  man  ;  and  Adam  Badeau  was 


made  a  colonel,  and  is  now  figuring  in  ,  I 

talent  he  ever  had  was  crowded  into  such  a  book      Yes,  I 
n      But  one  thing  is  to  be  relied  on,  each  of  the  Presents 
storing  to  rule  over  this  country  next,  has  brains  enough 

0  write  his  own  life.     Grant  has  written  his  out  with  a  sword 
and  Greeleycan  handle  his  own   pen.     He  won't  have  any 
del  of  tha"  kind  to  pay  off,  and  I'm  awfully  mistaken  if  the 
authors  of  this  country  won't  stand  almost  as  high  with  tarn  a 
corporals  in  the  army  do  now.     In  his  time  bayonets  will 
staled,  and  pens  have  their  day.     During  the  next  four  years 

1  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mr.  Shakspeare  might  have  a  little  chance 

if  he  were  alive."  ,    , 

«  That  puts  me  in  mind,"  says  the  Western  gentleman,  "that 
a  statue  of  Shakspeare  is  going  to  be  unveiled  in  the  New  York 
Central  Park  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  ?  "  says  I  ;  «  then  I'm  off  to  New  York  to  see 
it  done.  By  and  by,  when  we  have  put  all  the  British  authors 
in  marble,  some  one  born  in.  America  may  get  a  chance. 

«  But  Shakespeare  belongs  to  the  world,"  says  Cousin  ID 
ster,  who  was  sitting  near  me. 

"All  men  or  women  of  genius  belong  to  the  world,     says 
I   «  hist  as  far  as  the  world  knows  them;  but  the  country  m 
which  a  great  man  or  woman  was  born,  and  has  lived  and  writ- 
12* 


274  American  Authors. 

ten,  is  the  place  where  he  should  be  first  honored.  Have  we 
done  anything  of  that  kind  yet  ?  I'm  not  saying  one  word 
against  Mr.  Shakespeare ;  his  monument  ought  to  be  in  the 
most  beautiful  spot  we  have  ;  but  let  the  next  statue  be  that  of 
some  first-class  American.  Mr.  Shakespeare  belongs  to  us.  as 
much  as  he  did  to  England,  because  when  he  Jived  England  was 
our  country,  and  he  belongs  to  us  now.  But  since  then  we 
have  cut  loose  from  the  Old  World,  and  built  up  a  powerful 
nation,  where  great  authors,  both  men  and  women,  have 
worked  out  their  own  birthright  of  genius,  with  no  help  but 
the  power  God  has  given  them — worked  it  out,  too,  with  not 
half  the  recognition  that  our  Government  and  our  people,  to 
their  shame  be  it  spoken,  have  given  to  coarser  and  weaker  in 
tellects  from  over  the  sea." 

"  Why,  Pho3mie,"  says  Cousin  Dempster,  "  don't  get  so  ex 
cited  ;  do  you  know  that  you  are  talking  like  a  book  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  an  English  book  if  any  American  takes  much 
notice  of  it,"  says  I ;  "  but  rile  me  up  on  this  subject,  and  I  don't 
know  or  care  how  I  talk.  In  our  part  of  the  country  we  are 
Americans  to  the  backbone,  and  we  mean  to  keep  so." 

"  Well,  but  this  statue  of  Shakespeare  was  first  thought  of  by 
the  actors  who  have  been  living  over  his  plays  years  and  years 
— Booth,  Wallack,  Wheatley,  and  your  dead  and  gone  Hal- 
leek,  set  it  a-going. 

"  What  Shakespeare  did  for  theatres,  theatre  people  know 
how  to  acknowledge.  They  have  some  spirit ;  but  what  author 
ever  comes  forward  and  asks  a  place  for  his  fellow-author  ? 
How  can  they  expect  the  country  to  be  generous  to  them  when 
they  do  nothing  for  each  other  ?  " 

It  kind  of  took  me  down  when  Cousin  Dempster  said  this, 
and  not  having  anything  to  observe,  I  said  nothing,  but  got 
right  up,  and  says  I : 

"  If  we  mean  to  start  for  New  York,  it's  time  to  be  getting 
ready." 


The  Statue  of  Shakespeare.  2/5 


LXV. 

THE    STATUE    OF    SHAKESPEARE. 

1ELL,  sisters,  we  got  to  New  York  in  time,  and  went 
right  up  to  Central  Park,  which  was  just  one  garden 
of  flowers,  all  in  full  bloom.  The  trees,  too,  were  of 
a  bright,  lovely  green,  and  the  little  lakes  blue  as  a  baby's 
eye,  sparkled  and  rippled  wherever  the  sun  shone  and  the  wind 
swept  over  them.  A  wide  green  circle,  with  lots  of  trees  shad 
ing  it,  and  great  heaps  of  bushes  heavy  with  pink  and  white 
flowers  everywhere  around  it,  was  just  alive  with  men  and 
women.  They  were  all  in  their  Sunday  go-to-meeting  best, 
some  on  the  grass,  some  in  carriages,  and  all  chatting,  laugh 
ing,  and  enjoying  themselves  mightily,  but  crowding  toward 
one  spot. 

Under  these  trees,  where  the  grass  was  greenest,  and  the 
flowers  brightest,  there  was  a  sort  of  pyramid,  covered  over 
with  star-spangled  banners  of  bright  silk.  Sweeping  round 
that,  like  a  ring  cut  in  two,  were  platforms  with  rows  on  rows 
of  seats,  built  against  flag-poles,  from  which  ever  so  many  flags 
were  a-streaming  out  on  the  wind.  These  seats  were  crammed 
and  crowded  full  of  people.  The  centre  platform  was  roofed 
in,  and  just  running  over  with  men  holding  fiddles,  drums, 
twisted  horns,  trumpets,  great  puffy  bass  viols,  and  everything 
else  that  could  turn  music  into  thunder,  and  thunder  back  into 
music. 

There  was  an  inside  circle  nearer  to  the  pyramid,  and  our 
tickets  took  us  there,  among  the  greatest  people  of  the  country, 
which  was  an  honor  I  felt  in  behalf  of  the  society.  This  was 
the  penetralia,  which,  I  suppose,  from  the  first  syllable,  was 
got  up  especially  for  authors.  I  took  my  seat  in  that  honored 
place,  and,  spreading  my  white  parasol,  looked  about  me,  feel 
ing  the  exaltation  of  my  position  in  a  modest  way,  but  willing 
that  others  should  make  their  little  mark  even  if  I  was  there. 


2/6  The  Statue  of  Shakespeare. 

Well,  the  first  thing  that  came  was  a  crash  that  made  me 
hop  right  up,  and  near  about  break  my  parasol.  No  wonder ; 
for  more  than  a  hundred  men  were  just  flooding  the  air  with 
music,  that  rose  and  fell  and  fluttered  till  the  trees  and  bushes 
shook  under  it.  I  do  believe  the  sweetness  and  the  thunder 
ing  outbursts  would  have  inspired  me  to  break  into  some  good 
old  tune  myself,  if  there  hadn't  been  so  much  rustling  and 
talking  and  flirting  all  around  me.  As  it  was,  there  arose  a 
clatter  of  confusing  sounds  that  gave  one's  nerves  a  jerky  feeling 
that  I  for  one  haven't  got  over  yet.  I  do  wonder  why  city 
people  have  no  better  manners.  I  should  just  as  soon  think  of 
speaking  out  in  meeting,  as  of  chattering  when  others  wanted 
to  listen  to  music. 

Well,  after  a  hard  tussle  between  the  people  and  the  music, 
the  people  came  out  first-best — more  shame  to  'em.  Then  a 
gentleman  they  call  Judge  Daly — a  real  nice-looking  person — 
got  out  and  reached  out  his  arms  toward  the  pyramid,  wrapped 
up  in  flags. 

The  minute  he  did  this  all  the  people  began  to  stamp  and 
clap  their  hands,  and  fling  out  their  handkerchiefs  as  if  they 
had  gone  crazy.  The  more  he  tried  to  speak,  the  more  they 
stamped  and  clapped  and  shouted ;  and  he'  kept  a-bowing  real 
graceful,  till  by  and  by  they  stopped  and  let  him  speak. 

Then  he  went  right  on  and  told  them  all  about  the  statue, 
which  ought  to  have  been  done  and  put  up  on  the  day  that  Mr. 
Shakespeare  was  three  hundred  years  old,  only  the  statue 
wasn't  ready  then,  but  that  was  of  no  account,  when  we  con 
sidered  how  beautiful  the  whole  thing  was,  and  what  an  honor 
it  would  be  to  American  art.  Judge  Daly  was  all  alive  with 
this  idea,  and  spoke  splendidly.  When  he  had  done,  I  just 
laid  down  my  parasol,  and  clapped  my  hands  till  a  pair  of 
three-button  gloves  gave  out.  Sisters,  that  one  clap  cost  me 
jti&t  three  dollars  and  fifty  cents. 

When  Judge  Daly  sat  down,  a  gentleman  walked  up  to  the 
pfryamid,  and  stood  by  it  looking  awful  pale  and  anxious,  as  if 
the  thousands  and  thousands  of  eyes  bent  on  him  had  drawn 


The  Statue  of  Shakespeare.  277 

all  the  blood  from  his  body.     He  was  a  fine,  handsome-look 
ing  man,  and  somehow  I  took  a  shine  to  him  at  first  sight. 

All  at  once  his  face  flushed  up,  and  I  saw  that  he  held  the 
end  of  a  rope  in  his  hand.  While  I  was  a-looking  and  won 
dering,  he  gave  the  rope  a  jerk,  and  down  come  those  silk  flags, 
all  in  a  wild  flutter,  and  there  stood  Mr.  Shakespeare  as  if  he'd 
just  stopped  to  rest  a  minute  after  walking,  and  had  been 
struck  with  an  idea  which  he  was  thinking  over.  His  head 
was  just  a  little  bent,  and  he  held  a  book  up  against  his  bosom, 
with  his  finger  between  the  leaves. 

Mr.  Shakespeare  must  have  been  a  proper  handsome  man 
about  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  years  ago.  No  wonder 
that  elderly  young  lady  fell  in  love  with  him.  I  could  have 
done  ifc  myself,  not  because  I  am  elderly,  far  from  it,  but  be 
cause  he  was — well,  I  suppose  because  he  was  Shakespeare,  and 
awful  handsome  at  that. 

Queen  Elizabeth  must  have  given  him  the  suit  of  clothes  he 
wears ;  for  when  I  said  his  trousers  were  too  puffy  and  short 
for  my  liking,  and  his  cloak  nothing  to  speak  of  in  the  way  of  a 
covering,  a  gentleman  near  me  said  the  dress  was  Elizabethan. 

This  rather  set  me  against  the  memory  of  Mr.  S.  He  ought 
to  have  died  rather  than  take  anything  from  that  cruel,  hard 
hearted  old — I  was  going  to  say  old  maid,  but  refrain,  not 
wishing  to  be  hard  on  her,  cruel  as  she  was. 

Oh,  mercy,  what  a  shout  that  was.  It  seemed  as  if  every 
heart  in  that  great  crowd  had  burst  out  in  a  glow  of  admira 
tion.  Mine  just  fluttered  like  a  night  hawk.  I  stood  up  and 
whirled  the  white  parasol  over  my  head ;  more  than  that,  I 
split  the  other  glove,  and  was  glad  of  it. 

That  Mr.  Ward  had  been  working  eight  years  on  the  statue 
he  had  just  uncovered,  and  our  enthusiasm  was  his  best  re 
ward.  There  he  stood  face  to  face  with  the  people,  who  were 
to  give  him  pain  or  cruel  disappointment.  I  felt  for  him. 
No  wonder  his  face  turned  white  and  then  red  as  fire.  Years 
of  labor  for  one  hour  of  triumph.  He  deserved  all  the  praise 
he  got,  and  that  was  stupendous. 


The  Statue  of  Shakespeare. 

The  statue  was  now  all  uncovered,  and  the  sunshine  lay 
upon  it.  Sisters,  it  is  beautiful ;  but  one  thing  troubles  me- 
the  color  "Was  Mr.  Shakespeare  of  that  complexion,  or  has 
the  great  man  been  darkened  out  of  regard  to  the  Fifteenth 
Amendment  and  Mr.  Sumner?  When  a  man  is  statued  m 
bronze,  does  he  always  turn  out  a  mulatto?  I  don't  lie  the 
idea-it's  carrying  the  Civil  Eights  Bill  too  far. 

Judge  Daly  had  made  a  present  of  this  statue  to  the  park 
in  his  speech.     Now  Mr.  Stebbins,  the  President  of  the  Park 
Commissioners,  came  forward  and  thanked  him  for  it  in  the 
nicest  way.  He  was  just  the  man  to  do  it,  though  he  is  a  broker 
and  banker ;  for  he  cares  quite  as  much  for  art  as  he  does 
gold      Wherever  he  finds  genius,  this  man  spends  his  money 
like  dew  upon  it.     It  was  he  that  gave  Miss  Kellogg  her  fi 
start  in  music,  and  a  good  many  other  struggle,*  have  secretly 
been  helped  by  him  when  they  felt  almost  like  giving  up.    . 
my  part,  I  honor  and  glorify  such  men. 

The  next  thing  I  saw  was  a  grand-looking  old  man,  with  a 
Ion-,,  white  beard  falling  over  his  bosom,  and  soft,  white  hair 
floating  about  his  head.  I  held  my  breath  when  this  man 
arose,  and  while  the  crowd  yelled  and  shouted  and  made  the 
ground  tremble  under  me,  I  looked  at  him  with  my  heart  in 
my  eyes.  What  Shakespeare  was  to  England,  this  old  man  i 
to  America-the  best  part  of  the  land  that  gave  him  birth. 
He  made  a  long  speech,  a  beautiful  speech.  I  have  read  his 
poems,  so  have  you;  but  the  poetry  of  his  spoken  words,  of 
his  voice  and  looks,  is  grander  than  written  language  and 
nothing  that  I  can  write  will  give  you  the  least  idea  of  it. 

For  my  part,  I  hope  that  the  next  statue  set  up  m  the  pa, 
*ill  be  that  of  William  Guile*  Bryant.  What  is  the  reason 
that  we  should  wait  till  a  man  is  dead  before  we  give  back 
something  for  the  genius  with  which  he  has  honored  his  coun 
try  ?  The  readers  that  may  come  up  three  hundred  years  from 
now  owe  him  no  more  than  we  do.  What  are  we  waiting  or, 
then  ?  When  Mr.  Bryant  sat  down,  there  was  another  earth 
quake  of  applause,  which  had  but  just  time  to  stop,  when  i 


Racing  Dresses.  279 

burst  out  again  for  Edwin  Boo^th.  The  best  actor,  and  one  of 
the  handsomest  men  you  ever  saw,  came  forward  and  read  a 
long  piece  of  poetry,  which  just  made  the  blood  stir  like  wine 
in  your  veins.  There  was  a  double  gust  of  genius  in  this 
poem ;  because  the  poet  Stoddard  wrote  it,  and  then  Booth 
gave  it  the  fire  of  his  soul  and  the  music  of  his  voice,  which 
seemed  to  float  and  whisper  around  the  statue  long  after  the 
crowd  had  scattered  itself  over  the  park. 


LXVI. 

RACING   DKESSES. 

[EAR  SISTERS :— Don't  be  startled  ;  don't  hold  up 
your  hands  in  holy  astonishment  when  I  tell  you  that 
I — Phoemie  Frost — your  moral  and — I  say  it  meekly 
— religious  missionary,  have  been  to  a  horse-race.  I  am 
shocked  myself  now,  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  not  exactly 
because  I  went,  but  from  what  happened  after  I  got  there. 

Have  I  done  wrong?  Can  a  missionary,  without  knowl 
edge,  do  ^her  duty  ?  If  she  knows  nothing  of  sin,  how  can  she 
warn  against  sin  ? 

Then,  again,  is  the  running  of  swift  horses  sinful  ? 

Sisters,  I  am  troubled.  The  more  one  knows,  the  more  one 
is  perplexed  and  put  about.  It  is  so  easy  to  condemn  things 
by  the  wholesale  that  you  know  nothing  about.  One  can  speak 
so  positive  about  them,  for  total  ignorance  admits  of  no  argu 
ment,  and  is  entirely  above  all  evidence.  That  is  why  ignorant 
stubbornness  is  so  self-satisfied  and  comfortable. 

After  all,  I  begin  to  think  that  "ignorance  is  bliss."  Is 
there  anything  on  this  earth  more  snoozily  comfortable  than  a 
litter  of  white  pigs  revelling  with  their  mother  in  a  mud- 
puddle — say  in  August?  What  do  these  contented  animals 


280  Racing  Dresses. 

care  for  the  mud  that  soils  thei*  whiteness,  with  the  pink  skin 
shining  through — rosy  pigs,  as  one  may  call  the  kind  I  am  speak 
ing  of.  Think  of  them  muzzling  about  in  the  rily  water,  free  as 
air ;  then  turn  to  your  learned  pig,  chained  to  a  master  by  the 
forced  action  of  its  own  intellect — poor  thing !  obliged  to  play 
cards  with  its  fore-foot,  teach  geography,  and  cipher  out  num 
bers  like  a  schoolmaster — and  then  say  if  ignorance  isn't  bliss ! 
Look  in  the  little  black  eyes  of  the  animal,  and  see  the  sad  and 
hungry  look  that  knowledge  has  brought  to  him  ! 

To  know  is  to  want — to  want  is  to  suffer. 

Where  was  I  ?  Speaking  about  horses,  naturally  I  wan 
dered  off  down  to  other  grades  of  animals — the  laziest,  largest, 
lu>;;( -natured  creatures  of  all — but,  as  you  may  observe  with 
propriety,  not  suggestive  of  horse-races,  which  I  admit  and 
apologize  for. 

Well,  right  or  wrong,  I  have  been  to  the  races  at  Jerome 
Park,  which  is  a  hollow  among  the  hills,  clear  out  of  New 
York,  and  the  otfcer  side  of  Harlem  River.  There,  every 
spring  and  fall,  the  best  horses  owned  about  here  are  set 
a-going  like  wildfire,  and  the  one  that  beats  is  thought  the 
world  of. 

The  park  isn't  much  of  a  piece  of  woods,  after  all ;  a  good- 
sized  maple  camp  in  Vermont  has  got  twice  as  many  trees,  but 
then  a  good  deal  of  it  is  turned  out  to  grass.  Then,  again,  a 
level  turnpike  curls  in  a  ring  all  round  one  of  the  hills,  and  on 
the  top  of  that  is  a  kind  of  hotel,  or  long  tavern,  with  a  tremen 
dous  stoop  stretched  around  it,  wKere  the  upper-crust  of  fast 
horsedorn  crowd  in  to  see  the  creatures  run. 

On  the  other  hillside,  right  against  the  tavern,  is  a  great 
long,  open  shed,  with  seats  after  seats  sloping  down  from  the 
inside,  where  the  lower-crust  of  fast  horsedom  crowd  in  from 
the  railroads,  and  so  on.  They  have  to  pay  for  going  in,  but,  for 
all  that,  haven't  a  right  to  go  across  to  the  upper  side,  which 
must  be  aggravating. 

All  the  men  that  go  to  the  upper-crust  tavern  wear  a  huge 
round  thing  with  a  ribbon  fastened  to  their  coats,  and  strut 


Racing  Dresses.  281 

awfully  under  them,  as  if  they  were  the  crowning  glory  of  all 
creation.  Maybe  they  are;  I  don't  know,  not  being  highly 
educated  in  horsiness. 

Well,  Cousin  Dempster  has  one  of  these  medals,  which  he 
hitched  to  the  lappel  of  his  coat  that  morning.  Cousin  E.  E. 
had  been  fidgeting  awfully  all  the  week  about  a  dress  she  was 
bent  on  wearing,  and  when  it  didn't  come  home  from  the  dress 
maker's  till  late  the  night  before,  I  really  thought  she  would 
take  a  fit  right  before  us  all.  But  the  dress  came  at  last,  and 
then  she  wheeled  right  round  the  other  way  with  joy. 

"Such  a  dress!"  says  she.  "  There  won't  be  anything  to 
match  it.  All  my  own  idea,  too" 

Here  she  tumbled  a  cataract  of  silk  from  a  great  paper  box, 
and  shook  it  out  till  it  fluttered  like  the  leaves  on  a  young 
maple-tree. 

"  Isn't  it  superb  ?  "  says  she ;  "  peacock  green  and  peacock 
blue  intermingled  like  a  poem,  sloping  folds  up  the  front 
breadth  two  and  two,  bunching  splendidly  behind,  frilled, 
flounced,  corded,  folded,  trailing,  and  yet  demi  to  a  large  ex 
tent.  Cousin  Frost,  Cousin  Frost !  did  you  ever  see  anything 
so  original,  so —  so — " 

"Scrumptious,"  says  I,  a-helping  her  out,  " peacock  green 
and  peacock  blue  ;  if  we  only  had  the  half-moons  on  the  train 
now." 

She  looked  at  me  earnestly;  her  soul  had  taken  in  the 
thought,  and  it  burned  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  why  didn't  I  think  of  that?"  says  she. 

I  smiled.  It  takes  genius  to  understand  the  fine  irony  of 
genius.  Cousin  E.  E.  is  bright,  but  the  subtle  originality  of  a 
new  thought  isn't  in  her.  Thab  usually  does  in  a  family  what 
this  Government  is  trying  so  hard  for — centralizes  itself  in  one 
person. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  say  where  this  supreme  essence  condenses 
itself  in  our  family.  Still,  I  do  not  object  to  other  members 
making  their  little  mark,  and  if  E.  E.  can  make  hers  in  the 
peacock  line,  why  not  ? 


282  The  First  Horse-race. 

To  my  fancy,  that  dress  was  a  nation  sight  too  much.  It 
was  all  in  a  flutter,  silk  heaped  on  silk.  E.  E.  tried  it  on,  and 
fairly  waded  in  silk  when  she  walked.  There  was  neither  ele 
gance  nor  simplicity  in  it,  nothing  but  a  sickening  idea  of  exr 
travagance  and  money. 

E.  E.  looked  like  a  peacock,  walked  like  a  peacock,  and 
seemed  to  feel  like  one.  She  took  a  little  mite  of  a  bonnet 
from  a  box  that  came  just  after  the  dress,  and  put  it  on.  It 
was  shaped  like  the  small  end  of  a  loaf  of  sugar,  with  a  pink 
rose  and  a  bunch  of  green  and  blue  feathers  on  the  top,  bee- 
hivy  in  height,  but  brigandish  in  shape,  slightly  pastoral,  and  a 
little  military. 

"  Isn't  it  stylish  ?  "  says  she,  setting  it  on  the  top  of  her 
curls  and  puffs,  with  such  an  air. 

"  Original,"  says  I,  "  but  you  know  which  is  my  color." 

E.  E.  laughed  till  the  feathers  shook  on  her  head. 

"  Oh  !  "  says  she,  "  Dempster  and  I  are  prudent.  After  the 
middle  of  July  perhaps  we  may — " 

"  Till  then,"  says  I,  "  you'll  sit  on  the  fence  peacock  fashion." 

We  had  more  words,  for  E.  E.  is  nobody's  fool ;  but  just  then 
Cecilia  came  in,  and  I  made  myself  scarce. 


XLVII. 

THE    FIRST    HORSE-RACE. 

ILL,  we  started  for  the  races  in  high  feather.  Cousin 
D.  had  just  got  his  open  carriage  cushioned  off  beauti 
fully.  His  horses  had  rosettes  on  their  heads,  and 

little  looking-glasses  about  as  big  as  a  dollar  flashing  between 

their  ears. 

Cousin  E.  E.  wore  the  peacock  dress  and  the  brigandish  hat. 


The  First  Horse-race.  283 

The  parasol  had  a  red  coral  handle,  and,  to  own  the  truth,  no 
horse  on  the  race-ground  looked  faster  than  she  did. 

I  followed  her  modestly.  My  pink  silk  seemed  to  grow 
brighter  when  it  settled  down  against  her  green  and  blue ;  my 
white  hat  was  looped  up  on  one  side  with  a  white  cockade,  and 
the  white  feather  streamed  out  banner  fashion.  With  me 
all  was  simplicity,  patriotism,  and  whiteness — pure  as  the 
distinguished  individual  of  whom  they  were  a  delicate  typifica- 
tion. 

The  drive  up  to  that  race-ground  was  just  too  lovely  for 
anything.  The  horses  fairly  flew.  The  wind  just  shook  the 
white  fringe  on  my  parasol,  and  kept  my  emblematical  feather 
dancing  after  my  hat.  Cousin  Dempster  drove,  and  that  girl 
Cecilia  sat  high  up  on  the  front  seat  by  him,  with  her  short 
dress  ruffled  and  pinked  about  the  bottom  like  a  full-blown 
poppy;  her — well,  ankles  visible  to  the  knees,  and  all  her 
hair  floating  out  loose  and  crinkly.  I  say  nothing,  but  ask 
you,  as  females  of  experience,  what  kind  of  a  woman  will  that 
stuck-up  child  make,  in  the  long  run  ? 

The  race  ground  was  gay  as  a  general  training  when  we  got 
there.  It  had  rained  lately ;  the  trees  and  grass  were  green 
as  green  could  be,  and  thousands  of  red-birds,  yellow-hammers, 
blue-jays,  and  golden-robins,  seemed  to  have  settled  down 
around  the  long  tavern,  the  hill-side,  and  under  the  old  trees. 
I  declare,  the  sight  was  beautiful. 

Cousin  D.  had  to  show  his  badge  and  thing  at  the  gate ; 
then  we  drove  up  to  the  long  tavern  with  a  dash,  hopped 
gracefully  out  of  the  carriage,  and  walked  right  in  among  the 
great  crowd  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  chatting,  laughing,  and 
moving  about  the  long  stoop. 

Sisters,  I  do  try  to  be  humble,  but  it  is  awful  hard  work. 
"When  I  went  into  that  crowd,  with  my  pink  silk  trailing  and 
that  white  feather  all  afloat,  the  whole  congregation  seemed  to 
break  into  groups  and  hush  up,  just  to  look  at  me.  I  didn't 
pretend  to  notice  this  delicate  ovation,  but  walked  slowly  for 
ward,  and  with  a  becoming  blush  on  my  cheek,  while  E.  E.  and 


284  The  First  Horse-race. 

that  child  kept  bowing  and  shaking  hands  with  everybody  they 
met. 

After  I  had  seated  myself  in  one  of  the  great  splint-bottomed 
chairs  that  stood  in  dozens  on  the  stoop,  the  crowd  felt  at  lib 
erty  to  go  on  again — and  it  did.  A  flock  of  birds  couldn't 
have  twittered  and  tittered  and  flitted  more  joyaceously  than 
the  females  crowded  together  on  that  stoop. 

But  I  soon  had  something  else  to  look  at.  Down  in  front 
of  the  hotel  a  lot  of  horses  were  prancing  to  and  fro,  up  and 
down,  breaking  into  a  run  here,  wheeling  round,  going  back, 
standing  still,  and  generally  cutting  about  in  a  promiscuous 
manner,  as  if  they  were  dying  to  have  a  dance  in  the  street. 

Sisters,  in  all  your  born  days,  you  never  saw  anything  like 
those  horses  !  Slender,  smooth  as  glass,  with  eyes  like  balls 
of  fire,  they  just  took  the  shine  oif  from  everything  in  the 
horse  line  that  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  But  the  animals  were  noth 
ing  compared  to  the  funny-looking  creatures  that  rode  them. 
A  circus  was  nothing  to  them — neither  is  a  theatre.  Some  of 
them  were  dressed  in  red,  some  in  yellow,  some  in  blue ;  one 
had  on  purple — all  fitting  just  as  tight  as  the  skin  to  a  rabbit's 
back.  Each  one  had  a  boy's  cap  on  his  head ;  and,  in  fact, 
they  all  looked  like  boys  out  on  a  spree.  There  was  a  place 
just  above  the  long  tavern  where  most  of  these  fellows  always 
took  their  horses  after  a  little  run  and  blow — that  was  a  little, 
cubby  house,  built  up  high  from  the  ground,  in  which  some 
men  stood  like  captains  on  a  steamboat. 

By  and  by  there  was  a  stir  among  the  horses  and  a  hustle 
among  the  men. 

"  They're  going  to  start !  they're  going  to  start !  "  says 
everybody  to  everybody  else.  A  flag  on  the  little  house 
seemed  to  break  down.  Then  off  the  whole  lot  flew  like  a 
flock  of  wild  birds.  The  flying  horses  rushed  along  the  road, 
beating  time  on  the  hard  ground,  and  fairly  taking  the  breath 
from  one's  lips. 

I  gave  a  little  scream,  and  jumped  up.     The  whole  crowd 


The  First  Horse-race.  285 

rushed  forward,  and  seemed  as  if  it  would  pour  itself  over  the 
railing  of  the  long  stoop. 

"  Where  have  they  gone?  "  says  I.     "  What  has  become  of 
'em?" 

"Here    they  come — here   they   come,"  shouted  the  whole 
*crowd,  answering  me  all  at  once. 

And  they  did  come  skimming  along  the  road  like  wildfire — 

flash flash — now   two  horses  abreast — now  one  ahead — now 

another — then  a  sudden  pull  up,  and  the  brown  horse  had  won. 
Now  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  whole  squad  came  up  pretty 
much  at  the  same  time,  but  the  whole  crowd  fell  to  clapping 
hands  over  the  brown  horse.  I  clapped  too,  and  swung  out 
my  handkerchief  as  well  as  the  rest ;  for  when  a  multitude 
go  into  a  thing  like  that  it  just  sets  one  wild. 

Then  the  flag  took  another  fall,  and  off  went  another  squad 
of  horses,  and  around  the  hill  they  went  out  of  sight.  Then 
came  a  stormy  sound  of  hoofs,  and  another  streak  of  lightning 
dash  in  which  a  chestnut-colored  horse  showed  his  head  first, 
and  then  came  another  rolling  thunder-clap  from  the  crowd,  and 
"  Joe  Daniels  has  beat,"  ran  from  lip  to  lip,  as  if  "  Joe  Daniels  " 
had  been  up  for  the  Presidential  election  and  got  all  the  votes. 
Then  the  people  cooled  down,  and,  after  a  long  wait,  there 
was  another  rush,  as  if  a  whole  training  band  had  broke  loose. 
We  had  hardly  time  to  draw  a  deep  breath,  when  they  all 
came  sweeping  round  in  front  of  the  long  tavern,  two  of  'em 
just  a  little  ahead,  running  so  even  and  so  fast,  that  I  really 
believed  that  both  of  them  beat  the  other,  till  the  crowd  began 
to  clap  and  shout  Alarm,  which  frightened  me,  for  I  thought 
something  dreadful  had  happened ;  but  Dempster  hushed  me 
up,  saying  it  was  the  name  of  the  horse  that  had  won  the 
race,  and  he  was  glad  of  it,  for  his  friend  Travers  was  one 
of  the  warmest-hearted,  kindest  fellows  in  the  world,  and 
ought  to  have  a  horse  win  every  day  of  his  life.  This  friendly 
little  speech  set  me  clapping  my  hands,  both  for  the  horse 
Alarm,  his  orange-colored  rider,  and  the  jolly-hearted  man 
who  owns  him. 


286  The  First  Horse-race. 

There  was  a  great  commotion  after  this.  The  whole  crowd 
was  in  a  wild  whirl  of  excitement.  All  the  ladies  were  talk 
ing  about  gloves  and  pools,  and  gentleman  riders,  while  the 
gentlemen  talked  fast,  looked  eager,  and  were  restless  as  caged 
birds.  Something  was  going  to  happen  now,  I  was  sure  of 
that. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,"  says  I  to  a  gentleman 
that  cousin  had  just  introduced  to  me,  "  everybody  is  so  ex 
cited." 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  all  on  the  keyvive." 

What  queer  names  they  do  have  for  horses.  Alarm  had 
just  come  in  ahead,  and  now  Keyvive. 

"  What  kind  of  a  horse  is  the  Keyvive  ?  "  says  I. 

He  didn't  seem  to  hear  •  me.  No  wonder,  for  that  very  min 
ute  five  horses,  with  such  nice-looking  fellows  on  their  backs, 
took  a  start,  like  a  flock  of  wild  deer,  and  went  up  the  road 
so  swift  that  before  I  could  see  them  they  were  gone. 

"  It  is  the  hurdle-race,"  says  the  same  gentleman,  "  splendid 
— splendid  ;  what  a  leap  !  " 

His  eyes  were  bright  as  stars ;  they  fairly  danced  in  his 
head. 

I  sprang  up,  for  a  great  wind  seemed  to  be  rushing  around 
the  hill.  Then  I  gave  a  scream,  for  some  wicked  person  had 
built  a  fence  right  across  the  road,  and  those  five  horses  were 
galloping  like  mad  right  toward  it. 

"  Oh,  stop  them — stop  them — for  mercy's  sake !  "  says  I,  a- 
clasping  my  hands,  and  pleading  wildly  to  every  one  around. 
"  They'll  be  killed— they  don't  see  that  awful  fence." 

While  I  was  screaming,  the  whole  five  horses  came,  one 
after  another,  sailed  right  over  the  fence,  dived  down  like  hen- 
hawks  after  a  chicken,  and  away  toward  another  fence  that 
choked  up  the  road.  Before  I  could  shriek  out,  and  warn 
them,  over  they  came,  like  a  whirlwind,  without  touching  the 
fence  or  seeming  to  care — over,  and  away  up  the  road,  taking 
one's  breath  with  them. 

"  Mercy  on  me !  what  a  providential  escape !  "  says  I  to  the 


The  First  Horse-race.  287 

gentleman ;  "  what  wicked  wretch  could  have  heaped  up  things 
in  the  road  ?  I  do  hope  they'll  be  found  out  and  sent  to  State's 
prison.  Why,  it's  just  as  bad  as  blocking  up  a  train  of  cars. 
Such  nice-looking  riders,  too  !  " 

The  gentleman  looked  a  trine  puzzled,  then  he  smiled  a  little 
funnily,  and  says  he : 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  understand  that  this  is  a  £  hurdle- 
race.'" 

"  No,"  says  I ;  (( they  told  me  that  it  would  be  horse-racing 
— nothing  worse  than  that." 

"Well,"  says  he,  "it  is  nothing  worse  than  that,  only  a 
little  more  dangerous,  and  to  you  ladies  more  interesting,  be 
cause  the  riders  are  all  gentlemen." 

"  What,  those  men  in  the  caps,  gentlemen — not  circus-riders, 
nor  nothing  ?  " 

He  laughed,  and  says  he : 

"  I  dare  say  no  one  of  them  has  ever  been  in  a  circus  since 
he  left  off  tunics,  but  they  have  learned  to  hunt,  and  love  these 
hard  leaps." 

4<  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  they  skiver  over  such  fences 
on  purpose  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Indeed  they  do,  and  build  them  higher  and  broader  every 
year." 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I,  feeling  my  eyes  open  wide. 

"  They  love  the  peril,  for  that  increases  the  excitement." 

"  What  if  some  of  them  were  to  be  flung  head  over  heels  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that  has  happened." 

«  Not  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  fortunately  the  man  was  not  killed." 

I  felt  myself  a-growing  pale. 

"But  they  don't  know  of  it.  Everybody  is  laughing," 
says  I. 

"  Yes,  it  is  generally  known,  bufr  that  is  a  part,  of  the  ex 
citement.  In  a  crowd  like  this,  it  is  difficult  to  realize  trouble 
or  death." 

"  How  strange ! "  says  I,  putting  the  handkerchief  that  I 


288  Off  Again. 

had  torn  with  hard  shaking  into  my  pocket,  with  a  deeply  pen 
itent  feeling. 

"  It  is  strange,"  says  he ;  "  but  this  is  no  place  for  deep 
feeling,  or  you  would  not  see  so  many  smiling  faces  around 
you,  for  a  gentleman  who  owns  some  of  the  race-horses,  and 
came  up  only  a  day  or  two  ago  to  see  them  tried,  is  lying  dead 
in  his  home  now." 

My  heart  sank.  I  felt  tears  crowding  up  to  my  eyes. 
Death  in  one  place — all  this  gorgeous  confusion  and  wild 
gayety  here.  A  lonely  widow,  weeping  bitter  tears ;  all  these 
gay  fluttering  young  people  reckless  and  happy,  in  spite  of  it. 

I  arose,  and  looked  around  me.  No  one  seemed  to  feel  this 
man's  death.  Never  in  my  whole  life  had  I  been  in  such  a 
whirlpool  of  gayety.  There  was  not  a  sad  or 'thoughtful  face 
in  the  crowd.  Yet  many  of  the  persons  there  had  known  the 
man  who  lay  dead  in  the  city.  I  had  never  heard  of  him  till 
then,  but  no  smiles  came  to  my  lips  after  that  mournful  knowl 
edge  reached  me.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  hilarious  gayety  I 
felt  the  shadow  of  human  suffering  creeping  over  me,  and  I 
rode  home  from  the  race-park  in  sad  silence. 


LXVIII. 

OFF   AGAIN. 

fEAR  SISTERS :— New  York  City  is  full  of  epidemi 
cal  contagions.  Horse-racing  is  one  of  them.  Every 
spring  and  fall  it  rages  fearfully,  especially  among  the 
female  women  who  wait  for  the  races — dress  up  for  the  races, 
and  come  out  with  splendiferous  spontaneosity,  whenever  the 
fast  horses  are  ready  to  run. 

I  have  been  up  to  see  the  creatures  rush  once,  and  sent  you 
my  report,  which,  owing  to  verdancy  of  mind  caught  from  the 


Off  Again.  289 

Green  Mountains,  was  only  skim  milk  to  which  I  now  pour 
in  cream  with  a  liberal  hand.  To  own  the  truth,  it  takes 
more  than  one  visit  before  a  regular  New  England  young  lady 
can  understand  the  inns  and  outs  of  a  horse-race. 

Now,  I  dare  say  you  think  it  a  sort  of  agricultural  fair  for 
animals — for  the  horsey  kind  meant  to  show  off  their  beauty, 
try  their  speed,  and  encourage  farmers  to  go  in  for  improve 
ment. 

Exactly,  and  a  good  deal  more  so.  Why,  sisters,  it's 
gambling — just  gambling,  open  handed  and  above  board,  in 
which  the  upper-crust  female  women  of  New  York  take  a  hand 
with  the  men,  and  glory  in  it.  But  I  mean  to  tell  you  all 
about  it  in  the  regular  way,  and  shall  do  it  as  I  go  along. 

You  never  saw  such  a  crowd  of  carriages,  wagons,  buggies, 
and  queer  horse  machines  as  crowded  along  the  road  when  we 
got  within  three  or  four  miles  of  the  race-course.  When  we 
come  to  the  long  bridge  that  runs  across  the  Harlem  River, 
there  were  two  lines  of  carriages  stretching  before  and  behind 
us,  just  as  far  as  we  could  see,  horses  that  tossed  their  heads 
and  champed  their  bits,  and  shone  like  satin  under  harnesses 
mounted  with  gold  and  silver,  with  little  looking-glasses  flying 
in  and  out  over  their  heads,  and  hoofs  that  struck  the  ground 
like  the  feet  of  a  Vermont  girl  when  she  dances  from  the 
heart. 

All  these  carriages  were  filled  as  if  they  were  on  the  way 
to  a  high  jubilation,  choke  full  of  ladies,  with  parasols  hover 
ing  over  them  like  wild  birds  taking  wing,  and  great  clouds  of 
silk,  lace  gauze,  and  shiny  stuff  a-billowing  over  the  sides,  till 
you  could  but  just  see  the  silk  cushions  they  leaned  against. 
Then,  again,  some  were  crowded  over  with  gentlemen,  mostly  in 
white  hats — which  delighted  me — some  with  cigars  in  their 
mouths — some  not — but  every  one  of  them  just  boiling  over 
with  good-nature  and  fun. 

This  was  the  way  we  went.  Cousin  Dempster  has  made  a 
good  deal  of  money  in  Washington — contracting,  or  something 
— and  he  got  a  spick-span  new  open  carriage  for  this  high 
13 


290  Off  Again. 

occasion — a  carriage  made  soft  as  a  bird's  nest  wit.li  brown 
satin  cushions,  and  that  glittered  outside  like  a  crow's  back 
whenever  the  sun  struck  it. 

We  had  a  great  big  fellow,  in  new  plum-colored  clothes  on 
the  driver's  seat,  and  another  genteel  youngster  by  his  side — 
all  plum-color  and  hat-band,  like  the  coachman.  Inside,  there 
was  Cousin  E.  E.  with  a  pea-green  dress  on,  all  flounces  and 
fringe,  and  overskirts  piled  up  so  high  behind  that  she  couldn't 
lean  back,  and  your  missionary,  Miss  Phcemie  Frost,  in  her 
pink  silk  (turned  again),  and  the  white  hat  with  plumes  of 
snow,  which  bespoke  at  once  her  good  taste  and  her  most 
sacred  political  preferences,  which  would  keep  going  on  both 
sides  all  I  could  do. 

There,  in  the  front  seat,  with  his  back  to  the  horses  and  his 
face  to  us,  sat  Dempster,  looking  out  with  envy  and  bitter 
feelings  on  the  men  in  buggies,  that  were  laughing  like  fun, 
and  smoking  like  New  England  stone  chimneys.  At  such 
times  I  do  not  think  that  Dempster  appreciates  all  the  sweet 
benefits  of  female  society. 

Last  and  least,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  that  child,  Cecilia, 
with  a  pink  parasol  about  as  big  as  a  good-sized  toadstool, 
fluttering  before  her  face,  and  all  in  a  storm  of  flounces  above 
her  knees,  with  nothing  but  kid  boots  and  silk  stockings  below. 

I  do  wonder  what  possesses  Dempster  and  E.  E.  to  train 
that  child  along  wherever  they  go !  She  is  just  the  aggrava 
tion  of  iny  life. 

Well,  with  our  open  carriage  yeasting  over  with  green,  pink, 
white,  and  blue,  which  Dempster  broke  up  with  a  lean  streak 
of  black,  we  rolled  through  the  gate  of  the  race-grounds  and 
came  up,  with  a  magnificent  sweep,  to  the  back  door  of  the 
club  house,  when  E.  E.  and  I  gave  a  neat  little  jump,  and 
tipped  gracefully  around  the  long  stoop,  right  into  the  upper 
crust  society  of  New  York. 

Sisters,  it  was  like  wading  right  into  a  flower-bed  !  Every 
body  there  had  on  her  good  clothes — I  may  say,  her  bettermost 
clothes  of  all.  Bed,  green,  purple,  blue,  white,  black — every 


Off  Again.  291 

color  or  shade  of  color  to  be  found  in  the  sky,  in  flowers,  in 
fruit,  or  in  water,  rustled  against  each  other.  Sisters,  it  was 
gorgeous !  But  one  thing  struck  me  as  peculiar — most  of 
these  female  ladies  had  the  loveliest  pink  color  in  their  cheeks 
all  the  time.  While  my  face  was  turning  red  and  white,  as  I 
grew  warm  or  comfortable,  theirs  kept  one  steady  pink. 
Ladies  with  hair  as  yellow  as  gold  had  ink-black  eyebrows  and 
lashes — things  we  never  see  together  in  the  country.  I  don't 
understand  it.  "Well,  we  had  but  just  got  seats  on  the  largest 
stoop  when  the  people  below  us  let  off  a  squad  of  horses  that 
seemed  to  fly ;  for  the  mud  was  soft  as  mush  on  the  road,  and 
their  hoofs  made  no  more  noise  than  as  if  they  had  trod  on 
velvet. 

Just  before  these  horses  made  their  first  dive,  Dempster 
came  up  to  us  with  a  person  who  carried  a  white  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  held  it  out  as  if  he  wanted  something  put  into  it. 
I  thought  that  somebody  had  been  cheating  the  poor  fellow, 
for  there  was  nothing  but  little,  crumpled  bits  of  paper  in  the 
hat.  Of  course  I  did  not  want  to  equal  these  treacherous 
people  in  meanness,  so  I  took  out  my  pocket-book  and  dropped 
a  five-cent  piece  into  the  hat,  smiling  benignly  on  the  good- 
looking  suppliant  as  I  did  it.  I  really  was  ashamed  of  Cousin 
E.  E.  ;  for  instead  of  giving  the  poor  fellow  a  trifle  of  money, 
she  just  nipped  up  one  of  the  crumpled  bits  of  paper,  and, 
opening  it,  called  out,  laughing  like  a  girl : 

"  I've  drawn  the  favorite  !     Oh,  isn't  that  splendid !  " 

I  declare  I  was  mortified  by  such  silly  nonsense,  and  want 
ing  to  keep  up  the  credit  of  the  family,  dropped  another  five- 
cent  piece  in  the  hat,  and  nodded  toward  E.  E.,  as  much  as 
to  say :  "^ Never  mind  ;  I  give  it  for  her." 

Instead  of  thanking  me,  the  man  stared  and  turned  a  trifle 
red,  as  if  the  gratitude  that  filled  his  heart  were  trying  to  burst 
through  his  face.  It  was  a  noble  feeling,  and  I  appreciated  it 
by  another  kind  nod  and  smile. 

Then  he  held  out  the  hat  to  "  that  child,"  and  she,  too, 
snatched  up  one  of  the  papers  and  began  to  giggle  over  it.  I 


292  '  Off  Again. 

declare  you  might  have  lighted  a  candle  by  my  face,  it  burned 
so. 

"  Is  there  no  end  to  such  meanness  ?  "  thought  I,  and  once 
more  I  opened  my  pocket-book. 

"No  matter,  Phcemie,  I'll  attend  to  that,"  says  Cousin 
Dempster,  waving  his  hand  at  me. 

Out  came  his  pocket-book  then,  and  he  took  from  it  a  hand 
ful  of  greenback-bills,  which  he  gave  to  the  man,  who  laughed 
as  if  he  were  half-tickled  to  death,  and  well  he  might  be,  for 
Dempster  was  as  extravagant  as  the  female  portion  of  his  fam 
ily  had  been  mean. 

"  Here  is  the  last  number,  and  our  pool  is  complete,"  says 
he,  taking  a  bit  of  paper  from  the  hat,  and  dropping  it  into 
my  lap.  "  Don't  trouble  yourself,  Phcernie,  it's  all  right." 

I  did  trouble  myself,  in  spite  of  his  smiling  face.    Charity  is 
one  thing,  and  ostentation  is  another.     After  my  gift,  which  I 
must  say  was  liberal  enough,  there  was  no  need  .of  such  a  dis 
play  as  Dempster  made.     No  wonder  the  man  looked  pleased 
as  he  marched  away,  with  the  money  in  one  hand,  and  that 
white  hat  in  the  other. 

When  the  horses  came  rushing  by  again,  and  made  a  sharp 
halt  just  above  the  house,  the  man  came  up  to  us  choke  full  of 
pleasure,  arid  wanted  to  look  at  my  paper.  I  thought  he  was 
taking  liberties,  but  gave  him  the  mite  of  paper,  and  drew  back 
in  my  seat,  in  proper  fashion. 

"Your  horse  has  won,"  says  he;  "Mid-day  has  the  race 
by  a  length." 

With  that  he  laid  a  roll  of  bills  in  my  lap,  and  went  away, 
bowing  low,  till  his  wrhite  hat  almost  touched  the  floor. 

II  Mercy  on  me  !   what  does  this  mean  ?  "  says  I,  a-taking  up 
the  money.     ((  Is  the  man  crazy  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  you  have  won  the  pool,"  said  Dempster. 

Before  I  could  ask  him  what  on  earth  he  meant,  Cousin  D. 
was  swept  off  by  a  crowd  of  ladies,  and  three  sandy-haired 
horses  were  put  upon  the  run.  I  could  not  tell  one  horse  from 
another,  they  were  so  alike ;  but  they  all  were  long  and  lank, 


The  Steeple-chase.  293 

with  hind  legs  that  looked  as  if  all  their  strength  lay  in  that 
direction  to  a  wonderful  extent,  and  the  way  they  threw  them 
out  was  surprising. 

About  this  time  I  saw  a  great  many  white  hats  flying  about, 
and  men  had  pocket-books  in  their  hands,  while  ladies  talked 

Icily  about  gloves  and  neckties,  and  dapped  their  hands 
when  the  horses  rushed  by,  and  the  word  "pool "  was  in  every- 
body  s  mouth— in  fact,  it  was  Bedlam  let  loose. 


LXIX. 

THE    STEEPLE-CHASE. 


JISTEKS  :— This  horse  hurdling  is  something  chat  just 
lifts  you  right  off  your  feet.     All  that  I  had  seen  was 
nothing  to  what  was  to  come.     All  along  the  wind 
ing  road,  and  the  lots  each  side,  some  men  went   to   buildino- 
uces,  till  every  few  yards  were  fenced  in,  and  yet  seven  long* 
ed,  long-bodied,  and  not  over  fleshy  horses,  with  riders  in 
white,  m  blue,  in  yellow,  and  striped  brown  and  yellow,  were 
ready  for  another  start, which  they  made  like  a  thunderburst 
On  they  came,  flying  and  flashing  through  the  lots,  like  a  flock 
:  birds,  right  up  to  the  first  fence.     I  sprang  up-everybody 
sprang  up,  wild  and  anxious-I  expected  to  see  the  whole  grist 
them  pitch  head-foremost  against  the  rails,  when  up  they  all 
•se,  and  away  they  went  straight  over,  and  off  like  a  shot  to 
*  next  and  the  next,  clearing  one  after  another,  before  you 
could  draw  a  deep  breath.     Across  lots,  down  the  road,  in  and 
they  went,  jumping  fences,  now  abreast,  now  in  a  swift 
line,  till  they  came  up  all  at  once  to  a  pond  of  water 

L  screamed  right  out,  and  felt  myself  growing  cold,  for  they 
were  rushing  toward  it  full  split,  and  it"  was  wider  across  than 
the  mill-stream  back  of  our  school-house. 


294  The  Steeple-chase. 

"  Stop  'cm,  stop  'em !  They'll  be  drowned,  they'll  be  killed ! " 
I  screamed  out,  just  crazy  with  fear. 

No  one  minded  me  ;  the  whole  crowd  was  too  busy  watching 
those  wild  riders  to  mind  me  if  I  had  yelled  like  an  engine 
whistle.  They  came  rushing  up  nearer — nearer,  almost  in  a 
line,  as  if  some  enemy  were  ahead,  and  the  whole  squad  meant 
to  ride  right  through  and  trample  everything  down.  They 
were  close  by  the  water  now,  with  a  low  fence  that  side.  On 
they  rushed — a  whole  cloud  of  hoofs  ploughed  up  through  the 
air,  and  those  seven  horses  went  shooting  like  sparrows  over 
the  fence  and  across  the  water.  Their  hoofs  struck  fire  from 
the  stone  wall  on  the  other  side,  and  away  they  went,  pell-mell, 
their  riders  shooting  out  colors  like  a  broken  rainbow,  and  the 
crowd  cheering  them  on  as  if  it  had  been  a  sham  fight  on  train 
ing-day. 

On  they  flew  like  a  young  whirlwind,  though  one  bay  horse 
they  called  "Blind  Tom"  fell  short.  The  rider,  trying  to 
bring  him  up,  was  pitched  over  his  head,  at  which  the  crowd 
was  hushed,  but  burst  out  again  when  Blind  Tom  left  the 
poor  fellow  behind,  and  dashed  on  with  the  other  horses  neck 
and  neck  round  the  fields,  leaping  a  fence  or  two,  before  the 
poor  stunned  rider  could  roll  over  and  pick  himself  up. 

Oh,  it  was  too  droll — that  plucky  horse,  dashing  along  with 
the  rest,  shooting  over  the  fences,  up  to  time,  and  acting  like  a 
soldier  charging  under  command.  I  could  just  have  gone  down 
and  kissed  the  splendid  creature,  and  the  whole  crowd — thou 
sands  and  thousands — set  up  shout  after  shout  that  you  could 
have  heard  almost  on  the  Green  Mountains. 

Another  horse  came  out  first  best  on  the  second  round,  but 
a  couple  of  men,  right  behind  me,  insisted  that  Blind  Tom 
ought  to  have  the  money — what  money  I  didn't  understand — 
but  I  agreed  with  the  men,  if  there  was  anything  that  a  horse 
could  accept,  Blind  Tom  was  the  animal  for  the  money. 

Sisters,  there  don't  seem  much  that  is  wrong  about  this. 
You  can't  see  any  amount  of  deep  iniquity  in  it,  can  you  now  ? 


The  Steeple-chase.  295 

I  didn't  discover  anything  poisonous  to  the  moral  character ; 
but  then  we  female  women  don't  always  see  deep  enough  into 
great  social  and  religious  questions,  and  horse-racing  is  one. 

What  do  you  think  the  gloves  and  neckties  meant  ?  "What 
hidden  sin  lay  buried  under  the  pools  ?  What,  after  all,  took 
that  great  multitude  up  to  that  beautiful  hollow  among  the 
hills  ?  Gambling,  my  dear  ;  male  and  female  gambling,  noth 
ing  more,  nothing  less.  The  horses  run  for  money.  The 
jockeys  ride  for  money.  The  men  bet  money,  hats,  gloves, 
hundreds,  thousands,  on  this  horse  and  that.  Everybody  gam 
bles,  and  everybody  likes  it. 

Sisters,  that  poor  man's  hat  was  a  pool ;  there  wasn't  a  drop 
of  water  in  it ;  still  it  was  a  pool.  The  two  five-cent  pieces  I 
threw  into  it  were  a  dead  loss  to  charity.  The  scraps  of  crum 
pled  paper  meant  dollars.  The  heap  of  bills  that  I  tucked 
away  in  my  pocket-book,  innocent  as  twenty  lambs,  was  money 
that  I  had  won  gambling,  ignorantly,  innocently. 

With  Christianity  at  my  heart,  and  gambling  money  in  my 
pocket,  I  feel  demoralized  as  a  church  member ;  yet  I  must  confess 
it  exhilated  me  as  if  I  had  been  on  the  top  of  a  high  mountain, 
and  was  looking  down  with  delicious  dizziness.  I  a  gambler,  I  a 
diver  into  pools  no  larger  than  a  man's  hat,  but  dangerous  as  the 
bottomless  pit !  I  cannot  realize  it ;  and  when  realized,  it  seems 
tome  as  if  I  couldn't  be  properly  penitent.  That  sort  of  thing 
doesn't  seem  so  awful  to  me  as  it  did  before  I  got  into  it,  in 
this  pleasant,  innocent,  and  sweetly  promiscuous  manner. 

Is  this  "  rolling  sin  like  a  sweet  morsel  under  the  tongue  "  ? 
Am  I  getting  faithless  to  the  trust  with  which  I  set  forth  on 
this  city  mission? 

This  much  I  will  say  in  my  own  behalf :  horse-racing,  if  per 
nicious,  is  awfully  pleasant,  and  horse-betting  (gloves  and 
neckties  I  mean)  is — well — ditto. 

Such  a  ride  home  as  we  had!  Trees  and  grass,  cool  and 
green — no  dust.  The  sun  going  down,  and  throwing  red 
shadows  across  the  fields.  Carriages  crowded  full  of  smiling 
people,  horses  wild  to  pass  each  other  and  get  home ;  yourself 


296  Preparing  for  Sea. 

deliciously  tired,  with  half  a  dozen  swift  horses  chasing  each 
other  through  your  brain,  and  trampling  down  your  con 
science. 

f  Well,  sisters,  I  may  have  been  wrong,  but  frankness  is  my 
peculiarity,  and  I  should  like  to  try  it  all  over  again,  just  once. 
Don't  think  hard  of  it,  but  I  should. 


LXX. 

PREPARING   FOR   SEA. 

jEAR  SISTERS: — With  an  acting  head  and  bitter 
taste  in  my  mouth,  I  take  up  my  pen  to  write.  My 
self,  and  not  myself,  I  sit  here  as  if  I  had  just  come  out 
of  the  upheaving  of  an  earthquake.  If  I  write  anything  of 
what  happened  yesterday,  it  must  be  sensational ;  for,  of  all 
sensations  that  ever  riled  up  a  human  -constitution,  that  I  felt 
while  out  to  sea  beat  all  that  I  ever  knew  or  heard  of. 

I  have  been  out  to  a  yacht  race. 

Horse-racing  is  a  science  not  unknown,  in  its  rudiments,  to 
our  rural  population.  You  can  remember  when  we  took  our  first 
lessons,  bareback,  with  a  rope-halter  looped  around  the  horse's 
nose  for  a  bridle.  No — that  was  our  second  lesson ;  the  first 
was  on  father's  old  grey  horse,  which  was  blind  of  one  eye, 
and  had  a  natural  saddle  curved  into  his  back.  Being  a  mite 
of  a  child,  I  sat  in  that  hollow  like  a  bird  in  its  nest,  hung  on 
to  the  mane  with  one  hand,  and  held  a  crooked  stick  before 
the  eye  that  could  see  when  I  wanted  the  creature  to  turn. 
In  this  way  I  began  my  horse-alphabet.  First,  we  waded 
through  the  plantains  and  burdocks,  at  a  slow  walk,  with  a 
stumble  now  and  then,  which  set  my  little  heart  to  quaking 
like  a  swampy  bog  trod  upon.  Then  I  grew  venturesome,  and 
the  old  grey  warmed  into  a  soft  trot,  which  shook  me  up  like 


Preparing  for  Sea.  297 

anything,  but  was  more  exhilarating  than  the  walk.  With,  my 
bare  feet  pressed  close  to  the  animal's  side  and  my  fingers 
gripped  into  his  mane,  I  began  to  rattle  my  stick  timidly 
against  his  shoulder ;  at  which  he  broke  trot  and  racked  him 
self  off  into  a  canter,  which  made  my  heart  leap  with  every 
fall  of  his  hoofs,  and  filled  it  with  the  courage  of  a  trooper. 

Didn't  we  wade  through  the  burdocks  and  sweet  ferns  then  ! 
Didn't  we  ride  round  and  round  that  pasture  lot,  without 
giving  the  dear  old  beast  time  for  a  bite  of  grass  or  a  fair  nip 
at  the  sweet  ferns !  Didn't  my  crooked  stick  rattle  and  my 
hair  fly  out  in  the  wind !  Didn't  my  mother  scream  after  me, 
and  my  father  rush  out  like  a  crazy  man,  with  both  arms 
spread  out,  and  try  to  head  Old  Grey  off !  Of  course  he  did. 
But  the  dear  old  horse  didn't  want  to  give  up,  and  I  didn't 
mean  that  he  should  ;  so  he  shied,  and,  of  course,  having  noth 
ing  to  hold  him  in  by  but  the  tuft  of  hair  and  the  stick,  he 
left  father  behind,  and,  I  do  believe,  kicked  up  a  trine,  just  to 
show  his  independence. 

That  was  my  first  lesson  on  horseback.  On  the  second,  my 
father  insisted  on  haltering  the  creature,  which  gave  me  a  pull 
at  his  head,  and  mane,  too,  which  rather  interfered  with  the 
use  of  my  crooked  stick,  and  bunched  me  up,  till  father  called 
out  to  me  to  sit  up  straight — which  I  did,  at  last,  going  it  with 
both  hands  on  the  halter,  arid  the  hair  blowing  about  my  face 
like  a  veil.  That  morning  Old  Grey  and  I  j  umped  a  brook  a 
full  yard  wide,  and  cleared  both  banks  beautifully. 

After  that  I  did  a  great  deal  of  bareback  riding,  along  the 
road  and  in  the  pasture  lots,  and  could  sit  and  ride  like  a 
trooper  before  I  ever  got  into  a  side-saddle  or  knew  what  a 
curb-bit  was. 

Sisters,  that  is  the  way  to  learn  things — begin  at  the  begin 
ning,  and  get  a  firm,  steady  seat  before  you  attempt  to  cut  a 
dash.  The  lady  that  can't  sit  her  horse  handsomely  without 
regard  to  bit  or  stirrup,  needn't  set  herself  up  as  much  of 
a  rider — at  any  rate,  in  our  part  of  the  country. 

So  much  for  one  kind  of  racing.  Now  for  the  water-course. 
13* 


298  Preparing  for  Sea. 

We  used  to  send  little  boats,  dug  out  with  a  jack-knife, 
under  paper  sails,  down  that  brook  by  the  school-house,  and 
see  them  swamped  among  the  cowslips  or  capsized  in  the  eddies, 
when  we  were  in  the  ABC  class.  Some  of  us>  went  far 
enough  to  sail  down  the  mill  stream  in  a  canoe  dug  out  of  the 
trunk  of  some  big  tree.  In  fact,  I  have  a  remembrance  of 
crossing  a  large  river  in  a  scow  pushed  forward  with  awful 
long  poles.  But  beyond  these  rudimental  experiences,  ship- 
rowing  is  not  indigenous  to  the  Green  Mountains,  as  a  general 
thing,  and  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  ever  become  a  Vermont 
institution,  yet  awhile.  Therefore  I  say,  horse-racing  you  can 
understand,  but  ship -racing  is  really  a  novelty  in  the  Moun 
tains. 

Now,  a  yacht,  sisters,  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  baby 
schooner,  which  has  two  masts,  or  a  sloop,  that  has  one,  built 
up  slender  and  graceful,  with  a  cock -pit,  which  is  in  the  stern, 
and  a  cooking-room,  which  is  in  the  bow,  and  all  the  other 
fixings  which  make  it  as  much  like  a  ship  as  a  first-rate  baby- 
house  is  like  an  old  homestead. 

Dempster  has  been  to  Washington,  and  got  some  contracts 
or  something,  and  what  does  he  do  but  come  home  one  hot  day 
when  we  were  all  just  sweltering  in  white  loose  gowns,  and 
says  he : 

"  Girls,  what  do  you  say  to  going  down  to  the  Regatta  ?  " 
"The  Regatta,"  says  I,  "  what  is  that— anything  cool  ?  " 
"  Why,  it  is  a  race  given  by  the  Yacht  Club,"  says  he,  u  and 
of  course  it  will  be  cool  if  we  go  out  to  sea." 

"  Well,  I  don't  object  to  seeing,  if  that  will  make  things 
cool,"  says  I ;  "  but  how  a  club  can  race,  except  when  it  is  in 
a  policeman's  hand,  I  can't  begin  to  make  out." 

Cousin  D.  gave  one  of  his  long,  hearty  laughs,  and  says  he : 
"  Now,  really,  Phoemie,  don't  you  understand  what  a  club 
is?" 

I  felt  the  blood  rise  up  into  my  face. 

II  Don't  I  know  what  a  club  is?  "  says  I.     "  Well,  I  should 
rather  think  so.     There  are  hickory  clubs,  oak  clubs,  yellow 


Preparing  for  Sea.  299 

pine  knots,  that  answer  pretty  well,  and  locust  clubs,  but  how 
a  little  ship  can  be  turned  into  a  club  beats  nie  !  " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  one  ship  that  makes  the  club,  but  a  good 
many,"  says  he,  R  crack  ships,  too." 

I  just  dropped  the  two  hands  I  had  been  holding  up,  quite 
out  of  breath. 

"  So  a  good  many  ships  make  one  club,  do  they  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Just  so,"  says  he.  "  When  a  lot  of  men  join  together  for 
any  particular  thing,  it  is  called  a  *  club.'  There  is  the  Jockey 
Club,  the  Union  Club,  the  Rural  Club,  the  Union  League 
Club,  the  Yacht  Club." 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  do  stop  before  you  club  me  to  death," 
says  I,  clapping  both  hands  to  my  ears.  "  We  have  got  timber 
enough  in  Vermont,  but  clubs  of  any  kind  are  not  in  our  line. 
Just  tell  me  what  you  want  of  us,  and  we'll  say  Yes  or  No." 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to  get  into  my  new  yacht,  and  go  a  little 
way  out  to  sea,"  says  he. 

"To  see  what?"  says  I. 

"  The  Regatta." 

"  Can't  you  for  once  speak  honest  English  ?  "  says  I. 

II  Well,  a  Yacht  Race,"  says  he. 

"  That  is,  little  ships  running  races,"  says  I ;  (( but  where?  " 

"  On  the  Atlantic  Ocean,"  says  he. 

My  spirit  rose.  1  have  seen  the  East  River  and  the  upper 
bay,  and  more  than  once  have  caught  a  view  of  the  Long 
Island  Sound  from  the  car-windows,  but  a  live  ocean — a  great, 
broad,  heaving  ocean,  with  waves  roaring  up  thirty  feet  high, 
is  an  object  we  do  not  often  get  a  chance  to  contemplate  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Green  Mountains.  Would  I  go  and  see  that  ? 
Wouldn't  I?" 

"  Then  you  will  go  ?  "  says  Cousin  Dempster. 

"  Go !  "  says  I,  "  yes,  if  I  have  to  walk  afoot  with  snow-shoes 
on." 

"  Well,  then,  get  your  yachting  clothes  ready,"  says  he. 

"  Pink  silk  ?  "  I  suggested. 

1  ( Oh,  no ;  something  that  can  stand  the  water,"  says  he. 


3OO  Yacht-racing. 

• 

"  Say  black  alpaca,  with  a  white  hat  and  plumes — principle 
and  patriotism  before  anything  else,"  says  I. 

((  That  will  be  lovely  on  the  blue  waves,"  says  Cousin  E.  E. 
"  I  will  wear  a  blue  feather,  and  Cecilia  shall  turn  up  her  Leg 
horn  flat  with  an  anchor." 

"  That's  just  the  thing,"  says  Cousin  D.,  with  maritime  en 
thusiasm.  "  I  have  had  the  yacht  painted  white,  and  on  her 
long  white  pennant  you  will  find  a  name  all  Yermonters  love 
particularly,  and  the  world  generally." 

"  What  is  her  name?  "  we  all  said  right  out  at  once. 

"The  Vermonter,"  says  he,  straightening  himself  up 
proudly. 

We  all  sprang  to  out  feet,  and  clapped  our  hands  with  the 
wildest  enthusiasm. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  to  dare  the  wildest  storms  on  the  ocean 
with  that  craft,"  says  I. 

«  Nor  I." 

«  Nor  I." 

Sisters,  it  was  a  spontaneous  outburst  of  pure  state  patriot 
ism — even  that  child  Cecilia  seemed  to  feel  it — for  ten  minutes 
after  she  was  busy  as  a  bee,  sewing  a  silver  anchor  on  her 
Leghorn  flat,  and  that  day,  for  the  first  time,  I  kissed  the 
child  with  spontaneosity. 


LXXI. 

YACHT-RACING. 

JTSTERS:— When  you  go  to  a  yacht-race,  the  first 
step  is  peculiar.  You  get  into  a  carriage  or  a  car, 
and  ride  down  to  the  docks.  Then  you  steam  off  in  a 
ferry-boat  to  Staten  Island,  get  into- a  thing  they  call  a  yawl, 
which  floats  like  a  cockle-shell,  and  carries  two  or  three  peo- 


Yacht-racing.  301 

pie,  and  row  off  to  one  of  the  cunningest,  prettiest,  slenderest, 
most  scrumptious  little  ships  you  ever  set  eyes  on,  sitting  on 
the  water  like  a  white  duck  with  its  wings  spread. 

Some  black-walnut  steps  fell  down  the  side,  over  which  I 
climbed,  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  and  jumped  into  a  little 
pew,  with  a  sofa  running  round  it,  and  some  light  cross-legged 
chairs  ready  for  visitors. 

The  sun  was  hot  overhead  and  up  from  the  water,  so  I  just 
went  down  into  the  prettiest  little  cabin  you  ever  saw,  all  fin 
ished  off  with  shiny  wood,  like  a  lady's  bedroom,  and  carpeted 
with  sky-blue,  with  a  pale  touch  of  gray  in  it.  Eight  by  this 
were  two  lovely  little  bedrooms,  all  blue  and  cloud  color,  with 
snow-white  beds  and  cloudy  curtains.  There  were  four  beds 
in  the  cabin,  too,  built  into  the  wall,  and  lots  of  silver  things 
were  shining  on  brackets  and  silver  hooks. 

A  sofa,  all  cushioned  with  blue,  ran  down  each  side  of  the 
cabin,  and  on  one  of  these  I  took  my  place  while  the  rest  came  in. 

Cousin  D.  had  invited  a  dozen  people  to  try  his  new  yacht, 
and  when  they  all  came  swarming  in,  it  was  cheerful  as  a  bee 
hive. 

Some  cramped  themselves  in  the  cockpit,  some  flung  them 
selves  on  the  long  sofas  of  the  cabin,  some  got  under  the  sails, 
cosey  as  birds  in  a  tree,  two  and  two ;  but  I  always  remarked 
that  two  men  and  two  women  somehow  never  got  together  ; 
they  were  sure  to  split  up  one  of  each  sort,  just  as  they  are  apt 
to  do  on  land. 

Well,  the  yacht  spread  her  sails,  made  a  graceful  dive  and 
off  she  went,  her  canvas  snapping  and  her  colors  flying.  A 
whole  squad  of  other  vessels  set  sail  too,  and  off  we  went  like 
a  flock  of  birds. 

The  water  of  the  bay  was  blazing  like  quicksilver.  Some 
white  clouds  cooled  the  sky  a  little,  but  everything  around  was 
sweltering  with  hotness.  On  we  went,  fleet  and  cheerful, 
sending  up  the  water  in  sparkles,  and  flying  toward  the  ocean, 
with  green  banks  on  each  side  of  us,  and  that  gloriously  hot 
sun  heating  up  the  air  like  a  furnace. 


302  Yacht-racing, 

By  and  by  we  passed  a  couple  of  great  stone  forts,  and  came 
out  into  the  ocean.  Oh,  what  a  broad  blaze  of  sky  and  water 
— blue  and  silver  everywhere,  blue  and  silver  ! 

On  these  waters,  far  out,  lay  a  crimson  ship,  settled  down 
like  a  mammoth  red  bird,  and  around  that  a  crowd  of  little 
vessels,  with  their  sails  spread  ready  for  flight.  Ever  so  many 
steamboats,  crowded  with  people,  waited  a  little  way  off  for 
the  race  to  begin. 

One  of  these  steamboats  had  the  President  of  these  United 
States  on  board,  and  hung  out  its  flag  that  all  the  world  might 
know  where  to  flnd  him.  We  didn't  try,  but  kept  modestly 
down  among  the  small  craft. 

By  and  by  there  was  a  fluttering  among  the  yachts  around 
the  red  ship  ;  then  a  gun  banged  off,  then  another,  and  away 
the  whole  flock  went,  flying  across  the  water  in  a  white 
cloud. 

After  it  went  the  steamboats,  ploughing  and  snorting 
through  the  water,  and  after  them  a  whole  storm  of  sailing 
craft,  all  on  the  wing,  each  dashing  up  foam  like  fury. 

Now  the  wind  rose  higher,  and  seemed  to  cool  the  air,  while 
it  spread  out  all  the  sails  as  they  flew  before  it.  This  seemed 
to  bring  in  a  whole  army  of  little  waves  from  the  great  ocean, 
and,  as  true  as  you  live,  every  wave  had  a  white  hat  on. 

I  jumped  up  and  fairly  clapped  my  hands  when  I  saw  these 
waves  trooping  in,  battalion,  after  battalion,  all  tossing  up  their 
white  hats  and  dancing  forward,  as  if  the  winds  were  singing 
Yankee  Doodle  behind  them. 

Then  the  party  in  our  yacht  gave  a  shout. 

"  They  are  rounding  the  spit,"  says  Cousin  D.  "  Do  look, 
Phcemie." 

I  did  look,  but-  saw  nothing  particular — who  could  ?  What 
would  one  spit  be  in  a  whole  ocean  of  water. 

Then  came  another  shout. 

"  They  have  marked  the  boy." 

"Goodness,  gracious,"  says  I,  "is  there  a  boy  overboard  ? 
Do  fling  out  a  boat-hook  or  something  !  " 


Yacht-racing.  303 

"  Do  not  disturb  yourself,  Phoemie,"  said  Cousin  D. ;  "  that 
particular  boy  has  been  swimming  in  one  spot  these  ten 
years." 

11  And  alive  yet  ? "  says  I,  feeling  my  eyes  widen  like 
saucers. 

"  Just  as  live  as  he  ever  was,"  says  he. 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I.  "  Can  we  see  him  from 
here  ?  " 

"Yes;  yonder!" 

Cousin  D.  pointed  toward  something  in  the  water,  black, 
with  a  red  cap  on.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  much  danger  of 
his  sinking,  for  he  kept  his  head  high,  and  a  good  many  boats 
were  near  enough  to  keep  him  up.  I  lost  sight  of  him,  and 
•watched  the  vessels  flying  off  again.  But  somehow,  when  they 
came  in  sight  once  more,  my  enthusiasm  was  all  gone,  and  I 
began  to  feel  limp  and  dreadfully  discouraged.  I  haven't  had 
such  an  uproar  about  my — well — heart,  since  the  Grand  Duke 
sailed,  and  that  was  very  different,  a  sort  of  affectionate  flutter, 
while  this  is  beyond  ex-pres-sion." 

Sisters,  at  the  end  of  the  last  sentence,  my  head  fell  into 
one  of  those  blue  cushions,  and  I  have  a  dreamy  feeling  that 
waves  with  white  hats  on  were  bowing  to  me  right  and  left. 

I  have  lifted  my  head  again.  The  yachts  are  coming  in  full 
split.  As  each  comes  up,  the  steamboats  and  vessels  give  a 
yell  that  makes  the  sea  tremble,  and  scares  all  the  birds  in  the 
neighborhood.  One  time  they  shriek — that  is  for  the  Grade. 
Then  there  was  a  deep,  long  howl — that  was  for  the  Jantha. 
Then  there  was  a  yell,  a  shriek,  and  a  howl,  all  together, 
which  was  for  the  Vixen. 

What  yacht  beat,  I  don't  pretend  to  know,  but  it  comes  to 
me  as  if  in  a  hideous  dream  that  it  was  the  Vixen. 

The  next  thing  I  have  on  my  mind  was,  a  table  set  out  in 
the  cabin,  and  the  popping  of  corks  from  long  bottles,  with  a 
sound  that  made  me  quiver  all  over.  Then  I  recollect  that 
some  one  was  persecuting  me  with  offers  of  something  nice  to 
eat,  for  which  I  shall  loath  them  as  long  as  I  live. 


3°4  Music  that  is  Music. 

Sisters,  I  did  not  see  a  single  ocean  wave  thirty  feet  hi*h- 
far  from  it-but  those  I  did  see  were  quite  high  enough.  If&yOU 
ion  t  believe  me,  go  to  a  yacht  race,  that's  all 


LXXII. 

MUSIC    THAT    IS    MUSIC. 


JEAR  SISTERS  :-I  love  music.  My  soul  was  brought 
up  on  Old  Hundred,  and  refreshed  from  time  to  time 
with  Yankee  Doodle.  The  lively  tones  of  a  fiddle  drove 
me  wild  with  delight,  in  my  foolish,  school-girl  days;  and  I 
cannot  keep  my  feet  still  when  one  rattles  of  money-musk  or 
the  Opera  Reel  even  nosv,  when  enthusiasm  is  delicately  toned 
down  into  graceful  ease. 

The  truth  is,  Nature  is  full  of  music,  and  we  who  live  in  a 
mountainous  country  know  how  much  of  it  is  to  be  found  out- 
side  of  instruments  and  the  human  voice.    In  fact,  the  sweetest 
music  I  ever  heard  has  come  to  me  through  the  woods-not 
from   the  birds,  but  the   whispering  leaves.      Have  you  ever 
istened-with  your  heart-and  learned,  by  the  faintest  sound, 
the  different  voices  of  the  trees-the  quick,  soft  rustle  of  the 
maple  ;  the  stronger  sound  of  the  oak-leaves ;  the  weird,  Costly 
shiver  of  the  pine-needles  ?     I  know  little  of  music,  if  anythm- 
it  of  heaven  can  touch  a  human  soul  more  tenderly  than  these 
sounds.     Then  the  birds-what  joyous  or  solemn  music  they 
can  make !     Have  you  never  felt  your  heart  leap  to  the  sin- 
ing  of  a  robin  among   the   branches   of  an   apple-tree  in  full 
som,  or  shiver  and  grow  sad  at  sunset,  when  the  cry  of  a 
loneiy  whip-poor-will  comes  wailing  through  the  dusk  ? 

There  is  the  music  of  trees  in  the  spring,  when  their  blos 
soms  are  sweet  and  their  leaves  are  just  unfolding-soft,  cheer- 
ful,  happj-  music,  full  of  tenderness  and  love.  Then  there  is 


Music  that  is  Music.  305 

the  low,  drowsy  music  of  the  summer-time,  when  bumble-bees 
and  lady-bugs  and  humming-birds  fill  the  warm  air  with  greedy 
droning  as  they  plunder  the  wild  flowers  of  honey. 

Did  you  never  close  your  eyes,  half  go  to  sleep,  and  listen  to 
them,  with  a  lazy  consciousness  that  you  could  rest  and  enjoy, 
while  those  little,  busy  creatures  were  singing  at  their  work  ? 
I  have,  a  thousand  times. 

Then  comes  the  fall,  when  the  hills  are  burnt  over  with  red 
and  gold  and  brown.  How  the  full,  rough-edged  leaves  strike 
together,  with  a  sound  of  copper  and  brass — with  a  rustle  and 
shiver  that  makes  one  think  of  military  funerals.  Then  comes 
the  swift,  rustling  sound  of  ripe  nuts  rattling  from  burs  and 
husks ;  the  coarse,  bass  voices  of  the  crows  among  the  naked 
stubble-lots ;  the  mellow  crash  of  corn-stalks,  as  the  cattle  tread 
them ;  the  slow,  liquid  grinding  of  cider-niills,  and  the  sharp 
sound  of  the  hackle,  where  flax  is  broken  for  the  spinning- 
wheel. 

After  this,  comes  stormy  music — fierce,  high  winds,  whist 
ling  sharp  and  shrill  through  the  long,  naked  branches  of  the 
woods,  which  answer  them  back  with  moans  and  sighs  and 
wild  shrieks  that  make  you  shiver  at  night  and  hide  yourself 
under  the  bed-clothes. 

When  I  was  a  little  girl,  sisters,  my  heart  rose  and  fell  to 
music  like  this  till  I  suffered  terribly,  sometimes,  without 
speaking  a  word  to  any  one — for  these  are  feelings  which  one 
never  does  talk  of — there  is  no  language  that  I  ever  learned 
which  will  express  them.  But  I  have  never  heard  any  music 
that  could  reach  my  soul  like  that  which  God  gives  us  in  the 
blossom  season — the  summer,  the  fall  of  late  fruit — and  the 
bleak,  hard  winter,  when  the  clash  of  ice  against  ice  has  a 
sound  that  no  man  or  woman  can  reach. 

This  is  my  idea  of  music,  and  that  is  scattered  far  and  given 
to  all  men  alike.  You  can't  gather  it  up  and  deal  it  out  in 
great,  thundering  gushes.  It  isn't  to  be  got  for  five  dollars 
a  ticket.  In  fact,  the  best  and  sweetest  things  we  have  are 
given  to  the  poor  and  rich  just  alike — free,  gratis,  for  nothing. 


306  Hubbishness. 


LXXIII. 

HUBBISHNESS. 

|ISTERS: — The  music  I  have  just  been  writing  about 
is  not  fashionable  by  any  manner  of  means.  Boston, 
the  great  central  hub  of  all  creation,  can't  bottle  it  up 
or  engage  it  by  the  ton  to  astonish  all  creation  with.  She 
must  have  the  manufactured  article,  and  has  sent  all  over  the 
world  to  get  it. 

Every  fiddler,  flute-player,  drummer,  and  curlecued  horn- 
maii  in  Europe  has  been  brought  over  here  to  thunder-out  and 
roll-off  billows  of  sound  for  people  to  pay  for  and  wonder  at. 

We  have  a  Niagara  of  waters  that  astonishes  the  world.  Now 
the  people  of  Boston  are  determined  to  give  us,  in  a  great, 
wild,  conglomeration  of  voices,  a  full  Niagara  of  sound. 

I  am  New  England  all  over,  from  the  top  of  my  beehive- 
bonnet  to  the  sole  of  my  gaiter,  but — confidentially,  among 
ourselves — don't  you  think  Boston  takes  a  little  too  much  on 
herself?  That  narrow-streeted,  up-hilly  city  isn't  all  six  of 
the  New  England  States  by  a  long  shot. 

My  opinion  is  that  Boston  is  putting  on  airs,  and  I  for  one 
don't  mean  to  put  up  with  it.  I  hate  stuck-up  people,  and  I 
despise  stuck-up  towns. 

Of  course  it  is  my  duty  to  see  all  things  in  behalf  of  the 
Society,  and  to  do  my  best  to  lay  them  before  you.  I  cannot 
say  that  my  ideas  of  Boston  have  not  toned  down  considerably 
since  I  came  to  New  York.  Still  New  England  is  New  Eng 
land,  and  Boston  is  Boston,  if  she  does  now  and  then  make  a 
tremendous  old  goose  of  herself,  and  sometimes  threatens  to 
cackle  the  hub  all  to  pieces. 

Cousin  Dempster  hasn't  much  to  do  in  summer-time,  so  he 
was  on  hand  for  the  Great  High  Jubilee;  and  E.  E.  was  just 
crazy  to  go ;  for  she  is  what  you  call  musical,  and  goes  right 
off  the  handle  whenever  a  fellow  that  can't  speak  English  plays 


Hubbishness.  3°7 

on  the  piano  or  sings  to  her  in  some  language  that  she  don't 
know  a  word  of. 

Well,  we  went,  and  found  Boston  just  running  over  wit 
people  Every  house  along  the  crooked  streets  had  one  or  two 
fla^s  a-streaming  from  the  roof,  or  out  of  the  windows-star- 
spangled  banners  tangled-up  with  red  and  yellow  and  all  sort! 
of  colors;  some  with  eagles,  some  without,  but  making  every 
street  gorgeous,  as  if  the  Fourth  of  July  had  burst  out  b 

its  time.  _ 

The  Coliseum  is  a  tremendous  building,  big  enough 
in  forty  thousand  people,  and  leave  room  for  the  whole  swarm 
of  drummers,  toot-horners,  piano-thrashers,  blacksmiths,  anvils 
and  swivel-guns,  with  a  thousand  people  to  blow,  thrash,  ai 
blast  them  off,  and  twenty  thousand  singers  behind,  ready  t 
pile  in  the  thunder  of  their  voices. 

The  Coliseum  is  grand,  barny  in  its  structure,  and  all  out 
doorish  when  you  get  into  it ;  but  there  is  a  good  deal  to  s< 
before  you  do  get  into  it.     The  streets  were  just  jammed* 
with  people  when  we  came  in  sight  of  the  great  building,  which 
stands  out  in  a  bare  piece  of  ground,  without  a  tree  near  it, 
and  the  hottest  sun  you  ever  wilted   under  beating  down  on 
everything  around.it,  till  I  felt  as  if  approaching  the  mouth  o 
a  great  New  England  brisk  oven,  heated  to  bake  a  thousand 
tons  of  beans  in.     The  streets  were  blocked  with  people. 

The  little  wooden    bridges   built    over   the    railroads  were 
creaking   under    the    tramp    of   a    never-ending    crowd. 
street  cars  were  crowded  like  beehives  till  the  horses  could  not 
move,  and  some  of  the  cars  broke  down,  choking  up  the  track, 
Female  women,  with  red  books  in  their  hands,  scrambled 
through  the  crowd.     Little  tents  and   shanties  were  scattered 
all  about,  everybody  talked  fast  and  loud— some  in  one  lan 
guage,  some  in  another.     It  was  like  going  into  the  Tower  o 
Babel,  with  all  the  languages  in  full  blast. 

From  one  of  the  shanties  we  heard  the  sound  of  a  loud, 
eager,  wild  voice,  as  of  some  fellow  going  to  be  hung,  and 
wrestling  for  his  life. 


308  Thunders  of  Music. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  says  I  to  Dempster.  "  What  on  earth 
are  they  doing  in  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  a  prayer-meeting,"  says  he  ;  "  some  man  is  wrest 
ling  with  the  Lord  in  behalf  of  sinful  souls." 

"  Oh,  that's  it,"  says  I,  just  disgusted  :  "  Well,  1  hope  he'll 
get  through  with  his  wrestling  before  we  come  this  way  again. 
To  haul  religion  and  force  prayers  into  such  a  crowd  as  this, 
is  making  a  farce  of  Christianity.  We  have  churches  for  such 
things,  and  the  calm  of  a  holy  Sabbath  set  aside  for  the  service 
of  God.  Who  has  time  to  think  of  such  things  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  takes  all  sorts  of  men  to  make  a  world,"  says  Demp 
ster,  pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  while  E.  E.  and  I 
followed,  with  that  child  a-dragging  after  us. 

We  went  at  the  rate  of  three  feet  in  as  many  minutes,  and 
that  wrestler's  voice  was  wrangling  over  us  all  the  time.  If 
the  angels  caught  one  sentence,  I'm  sure  they  must  have 
clapped  their  wings  to  their  ears  and  left  the  hub  to  take  care 
of  itself. 


LXXIY. 

THUKDEKS   OF   MUSIC. 

IIELL,  at  last  we  crowded  and  fought  our  way  into 
the  Coliseum,  which  was  pretty  well  filled  up  when 
we  got  through  the  entrance. 
It  was  a  sight,  I  must  say  that.  Before  us  was  a  whole 
mountain-side  of  benches,  rising  one  above  another  till  you 
could  hardly  see  the  end  of  them — benches,  benches,  benches — 
crowded  down  and  running  over  with  people,  all  in  a  state  of 
bewildering  commotion — humming,  whispering,  and  rustling 
together  like  ten  millions  of  bees  in  a  mammoth  hive. 

You  never  saw  so  many  female   women  together  in  your 
born  days.     Think  of  it,  thousands  and  thousands  with  crim- 


Thunders  of  Music.  309 

son  books  fluttering  in  their  hands,  as  if  each  woman  had  caught 
a  «reat  red  butterfly  and  was   holding  him  out  by  the  wings. 
All  these  female  women  were  rigged  out  in  gorgeous  dresses, 
rustling,  moving  and  flaming  with  all  sorts  of  colors,  h 
hillside  covered  with  gorgeous  flowers,  broken  up  wit 
of  blackness  now  and  then,  as  if  a  thunder-cloud  had  settled 
down  amongst  them.     These  black  patches  were  the  musicians, 
the  flower  garden  was  the  singers— almost  all  female  women, 
with  fans,  and  voices,  and  red  books  in  motion. 

Below  were  the  people,  crowded  together  by  the  acre,  all 
jolly,  smiling,  and  looking  as  if  Boston  were  ready  to  burst  her 
tire  and  whirl  on  her  own  bare  hub,  with  all  her  spokes 
a-whizzing. 

Flags  streamed  and  blazed  on  the  walls,  the  roof,  and  aroi 
the  pillars.     All  the  stars  in  the   skies  seemed  to  have  been 
torn  down,  scattered  on  a  blue  ground,  and  hung  over  that  - 
great  building.     It  was  a  grand  sight,  I  must  say  that— grand, 

but  hubby. 

It  was  the  German  day,  Cousin  Dempster  said.  England 
had  had  her  turn,  Prance  had  flared  up,  and  now  Germany  was 
to  splurge  just  as  much  as  she  was  a  mind  to. 

Well,  Germany  did  splurge,  but  she  began  with  a  loud, 
deep,  woe-begone  rush  of  music,  that  seemed  to  roll  out  from  a 
graveyard  where  everybody  lay  uneasy  in  his  grave  and  was 
begging  to  get  out.  This  ended  off  when  the  day  closed  with 
a  dreary,  low  complaint,  as  if  they  had  begged  long  enough 
and  gave  up.  Now  and  then  they  broke  in  with  a  grand  crash 
that  made  me  start  from  my  seat,  and  went  off  in  a  low  wail, 
with  a  storm  of  music  between. 

Something  lively  followed  the  first  moan.  Then  a  lady  got 
up  and  sang  all  alone  by  herself,  and  her  voice  went  floating 
through  that  great  barny  place,  full,  loud,  and  clear,  as  if  ten 
thousand  nightingales— not  that  I  ever  saw  or  heard  a  nightin 
gale  in  my  life,  but  I  persist  in  it— as  if  ten  thousand  nightin 
gales  had  broken  loose  in  a  swamp  of  wild  roses. 
"  Who  on  earth  is  that  ?  "  says  I  to  E.  E. 


3IO  Thunders  of  Music. 

"  Madame  Puschka  Leutner,"  says  she,  clasping  her  hands. 
"  Isn't  she  delicious  ?  " 
.  Then  out  E.  E.  drew  her  handkerchief  and  set  it  flying. 

"  I  never  heard  anything  like  it,  so  strong,  so  sweet,  so 
spreading,"  says  I,  flirting  out  my  own  handkerchief  with 
enthusiasm.  tf  The  human  voice  is  something  worth  while  in 
the  way  of  music  after  all." 

It  was  no  use  saying  more,  for  up  jumped  all  the  thousands 
of  people  in  that  great  encampment,  out  went  a  swarm  of  white 
handkerchiefs,  nocking  together  like  a  host  of  frightened  sea 
gulls,  and  the  roar  of  the  people  went  up  like  thunder. 

Then  a  great  band  of  men,  mostly  with  yellow  beards  and 
rosy  faces,  got  on  their  feet,  and  went  at  the  fiddles,  the  twisted 
horns,  the  drums  and  things,  like  crazy  creatures,  and  the  way 
the  music  rose,  and  swelled,  and  thundered  out  was  enough  to 
drive  one  crazy. 

Once  more  that  great  crowd  burst  in  with  yells  and  shouts, 
and  a  wild  storm  of  praise.  Then  one  of  the  yellow-haired 
men  stood  up  alone  with  a  wide-mouthed  toot-horn,  made  of 
bright  brass,  in  his  hand.  After  looking  around  a  minute,  he 
just  put  the  horn  to  his  mouth,  and  blew  a  slow,  long  blow. 
Then  he  went  at  it  tooth  and  nail,  bringing  out  great  round 
tones  that  seemed  as  if  they  never  would  grow  faint  or  die 
away. 

I  have  heard  a  great  many  toot-horns  in  my  life ;  in  fact,  I 
have  blown  a  tin  one  myself  to  call  the  men  folks  in  to  dinner ; 
but  never  did  I  hear  anything  like  that.  It  was  what  Cousin 
E.  E.  called  wonderful — so-low. 

I  couldn't  quite  agree  with  her  there,  for  to  me  it  seemed 
wonderfully  loud  and  riotous,  but  it  was  enough  to  make  one 
in  love  with  brass  toot-horns  forever. 

By  and  by  something  happened  that  just  took  the  starch  out 
of  my  New  England  soul.  There,  in  the  midst  of  all  those 
dashy  singers,  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  and  women  of  the 
colored  persuasion  rose  up  in  a  human  thunder-cloud,  and 
broke  into  that  noble  song  of  freedom,  which  is  a  glory  to  one 


Thunders  of  Music.  3 1 1 

New  England  woman,  and  a  glory  to  New  England,  for  no 
better  thing  has  been  written  since  the  "  Star  Spangled 
Banner :  " 

"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  Lord."    « 

Oh,  sisters!  there  mightn't  have  been  the  highest-priced 
music  in  those  colored  voices,  but  the  words  are  enough  to 
wake  up  &>  dead  warrior ;  they  went  through  and  through  me 
as  the  wind  stirs  a  forest.  It  was  something  to  hear  those 
dusky-faced  freedmen  chanting  the  glory  of  their  own  emanci 
pation — something  better  than  music,  I  can  tell  you.  But  the 
thrill  of  the  thing  was  all  gone  when  twenty  thousand  white 
people,  with  drums,  trumpets,  fiddles,  organs,  everything  and 
every  creature  that  could  make  a  noise,  thundered  in,  and  bore 
all  the  sentiment  off  in  a  wild  whirlpool  of  thunder. 

I  do  wish  the  white  people  would  stop  helping  the  colored 
population  so  much.  They  only  drown  them  out  and  stifle 
them.  Why  couldn't  the  jubilant  darkies  be  left  to  sing  their 
own  song,  and  rush  on  with  old  John  Brown  without  being 
whirlpooled  up  in  twenty  thousand  white  voices.  They  could 
have  stood  their  own  without  help,  I  reckon. 

There  was  a  little  resting  spell  after  the  darkies  sat  down ; 
then  came  a  great  heaving  crash  and  storm  of  music.  Every 
thing  from  a  Jew's-harp  to  an  organ  was  set  a-going,  and  be 
hind  them  thousands  of  women  sent  up  their  voices  amid  a 
crash  of  anvils,  the  thunder  of  guns,  and  the  ringing  of  bells 
that  plunged  one  headlong  into  a  volcano  of  sound  that  was 
neither  music,  nor  thunder,  nor  an  earthquake,  but  altogether  a 
stampede  and  whirlwind  of  noises  that  engulfed  you,  body  and 
soul.  King — crash-bang — thunder  rolling,  rolling — oceans  in 
tumult — whirlwinds  of  sound — armies  crashing  together — the 
world  at  an  end ! 

That  was  what  it  seemed  like  to  me.  Sisters,  I  haven't  a 
nerve  left  in  my  body ;  my  temples  throb,  my  heart  feels  as  if 
it  had  been  blown  up  with  brass  horns.  There  is  a  drum  beat 
ing  in  each  temple.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  hear  a  robin  sing,  or 


312  Saratoga   Trunks. 

a  brook  in  full  flow — anything  soft,  and  low,  and  sweet — it 
would  be  a  relief. 


LXXV. 

SARATOGA   TRUNKS. 

|EAR  SISTERS  :— Do  you  know  where  Long  Branch 
is  ?  I  reckon  not,  owing  to  its  being  a  sandy  slip, 
cut  off  from  the  edge  of  New  Jersey,  and  not  much  of 
a  place  over  two  months  in  the  year ;  it  hasn't  got  into  the 
geography  books  as  a  school  item  of  importance,  though,  if  a 
President  or  two  more  should  settle  in  there,  it  might  lift  it  a 
notch  higher. 

But  in  duty  bound,  I  am  here  in  pursuit  of  my  great  social 
mission,  and  can  tell  you,  confidently,  that  Long  Branch  is  a 
great  watering-place,  brirn  full,  and  running  over  with  fashion 
once  a  year,  when  the  hot  sun  drives  all  the  upper-crust  people 
out  of  New  York,  and  everybody  that  is  anybody  feels  the 
want  of  extra  washing. 

When  I  speak  of  watering-places,  do  not  understand  that  I 
mean  a  tavern  corner  with  some  brook  emptying  itself  into  a 
huge  wooden  trough  for  horses  to  drink  out  of.  Of  course, 
that  is  our  Vermont  idea;  with  a  willow-tree  shading  the 
trough.  That,  no  doubt,  gave  the  name  here.  But  the  two 
things  are  no  more  alike  than  trout  streams  are  like  the  broad 
ocean. 

I  ask  no  questions,  always  finding  it  best  to  wait  and  watch, 
and  learn  for  myself;  but  when  Dempster  .asked  me  if  I  would 
like  to  go  down  to  a  watering-place  in  New  Jersey,  I  asked  him 
if  there  wasn't  Croton  Water  enough  in  the  pipes  for  all  the 
horses  they  kept. 

Dempster  laughed,  and  said  it  was  salt  water  he  was  think 
ing  of,  and  asked,  right  on  that,  if  I  had  got  a  bathing-dress  ? 


Saratoga   Trunks.  313 

"  A  bathing-dress,"  says  I.  a  Goodness,  gracious,  no.  When 
I  bathe,  as  a  general  thing,  I — that  is — I  take  off — " 

Here  I  broke  off,  and  felt  myself  turning  red.  I  declare, 
Cousin  Dempster  has  a  way  of  putting  things  upon  you  for 
explanation,  which  I,  as  a  single  lady,  with  expectations,  of 
course,  find  embarrassing. 

Just  then,  E.  E.  came  in,  all  of  a  flurry  about  her  trunks ; 
she  wanted  more  and  must  have  'em,  she  said.  Seventeen 
Saratoga  trunks,  and  a  basket  or  two,  were  just  nothing  to  what 
she  needed.  Dempster  must  go  out  and  get  half  a  dozen  more. 
Why,  her  fluted  skirts  alone  filled  three  trunks. 

Dempster  went.  To  own  the  truth,  he  is  an  obedient  creature 
as  ever  wore  coat  and — well  pocket-handkerchiefs.  It  wasn't 
long  before  a  lot  of  trunks — big  enough  for  country  school- 
houses — were  piled  into  the  hall,  and  then  Cousin  E.  E.  began 
to  revel.  Her  bed  was  crowded  and  loaded  down  with  skirts, 
dresses,  shawls,  bonnets,  round  hats,  broad  flats,  peaked  caps. 
You  never  saw  such  heaps  and  mountains  of  clothes ;  such  a 
litter  of  small  things ;  such  stacks  of  boots  and  shoes. 

It  really  seemed  as  if  she  was  fitting  out  an  army  of  femi- 
nines.  Even  Cecilia  was  down  on  her  knees  packing,  and  E.  E. 
was  deep  in  a  high  trunk  with  her  slippers  half  dropping  from 
her  feet  as  she  punched  things  in  and  pressed  them  down.  The 
help,  black  and  white,  kept  running  up  and  downstairs  like 
hens  with  their  necks  wrung.  Every  few  minutes  there  came 
a  ring  at  the  door,  and  paper-boxes  and  bundles  were  set  down 
in  the  hall,  and  struggled  upstairs  when  any  of  the  help  thought 
it  worth  while  to  bring  them,  which  was  once  in  about  ten  min 
utes,  all  morning. 

I  think  Dempster  made  a  cowardly  attempt  to  get  out  of  the 
way,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  On  such  occasions  men  are  wanted, 
especially  when  the  bills  come  in,  and  E.  E.  knows  her  priv 
ileges. 

14 


314  The  Dolly  Varden. 


LXXVI. 

THE    DOLLY   VARDEN. 

|S  I   stood   looking   on,  wondering    if    cousin    really 
meant  to  turn  the  house  inside  out,  and  set  up  a  vil- 
|  lage  of  trunks  somewhere  on  the  sea-shore,  that  hard 

working  creature  lifted  her  face,  and  looked  at  me  deploringly. 
"  Oh,  Phremie,"  says  she ;  "  are  you  packed  ?      How  cool 
you  look." 

"Packed,"  says  I;  "  oh,  yes;  I  always  keep  my  pink  silk 

folded." 

"  But  your  summer  things,  are  they  ready  ?     Surely  you'll 

have  a  Dolly  ?  " 

«'  No,"  says  I ;  "  its  years  since  I  have  thought  of  a  doll, 
and  I  haven't  the  least  idea  of  going  back  to  my  play-house 
days." 

"  But  I  mean  a  dress,"  says  she,  lifting  her  head  out  of  the 
trunk,  and  wiping  the  swe— well,  perspiration  from  her  face. 
"  A  Dolly  Varden.  Don't  you  understand  ?  " 

«  A  dress,  and  some  Miss  Dolly  Varden,  all  at  once!  Now 
I  can't  think  what  dress  you  mean ;  and,  as  for  that  young  per 
son,  I  don't  know  her  from  a  bag  of  sweet  corn.  How  should 
I  ?  Never  having  been  introduced  !  "  says  I. 

E.  E.  just  sat  back  on  the  floor,  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 

« Oh,  Phcemie,"  says  she,  « you  are  so  stolid  about  some 
things.  Why,  it  is  only  a  dress  I  mean." 

"  Then  what  did  you  drag  in  that  young  person  for  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Because  she  gives  her  name  to  the  dress." 

"  I'm  sure  the  dress  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  her. 
That  is  if  she  came  by  the  name  honestly,"  says  I. 

And  it's  all  the  rage  now.     You  must  order   one,  Phoe- 


u 


"  What,  the  dress  or  the  girl  ?  "  says  I. 

Cousin  E.  E.  got  out  of  patience,  and  sprung  up  red  in  the 


The  Dolly  Varden.  315 

face.  Across  the  room  she  went,  slopping  along  in  her  slip 
pers,  flung  back  the  lid  of  the  trunk  that  seemed  to  be  overrun 
ning  with*poppies,  marigolds,  and  morning-glories,  and,  giving 
something  a  jerk,  brought  up  a  puffy,  short  gown  of  white  mus 
lin,  blazed  all  over  with  great  straggling  flowers — the  morning- 
glories,  poppies,  marigolds  that  I  had  seen  bursting  up  from 
the  trunk. 

"  There  is  a  Dolly,"  says  she,  a-shaking  out  the  puny,  short 
dress,  as  if  it  had  been  a  banner. 

"  Not  by  a  long  shot,"  says  I,  laughing.  "  It  may  be  a 
whopping  big  doll's  dress;  in  fact,  it  looks  like  it,  for  what 
woman  on  earth  would  ever  think  of  wearing  that  ?  Why,  the 
flowers  would  set  her  on  lire." 

"  This  is  for  Cecilia,"  says  she,  "  but  I  have  one  just  like  it, 
and  mean  to  wear  it  if  you've  no  objection  ?  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  says  I.  "It  isn't  my  mission 
to  stop  peacocks  from  strutting  and  showing  their  half-moons 
if  they  want  to." 

E.  E.  laughed.  She  is  a  good-hearted  creature,  and  I  set 
store  by  her  after  all. 

"  I.  will  try  this  on,"  says  she.  "  They  are  all  the  rage,  I 
tell  you.  Try  one,  Phcemie ;  your  tall  figure  would  set  one  off 
splendidly." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  says  I,  beginning  to  take  a  no 
tion  to  the  great  bunches  of  flowers  which  did  stand  out  from 
the  white  ground  with  scrumptious  richness. 

<c  I  am  sure  of  it.  No  one  carries  off  a  dress  so  well,"  says 
she,  "  and  it  will  be  expected  of  you.  Distinguished  persons 
are  so  criticised,  you  know." 

I  looked  at  the  dress  again ;  the  flowers  were  natural  as  life ; 
the  muslin,  was  wavy,  and  white  as  drifted  snow. 

"  But  the  cost  ?  "  says  I.  "  A  burnt  child  dreads  a  blister- 
ous  contamination.  That  pink  dress  of  mine  is  a  scrumptious 
garment — palatial,  as  one  might  say,  but  costly.  The  value  of 
twenty-five  yards  of  silk  is  a  load  for  any  tender  conscience." 

"Oh,  a  Dolly  doesn't  take  half  as  much,"  says  E.  E. ;  "  be- 


316  The  Dolly  Varden. 

sides  short  skirts  are  the  style  on  the  sea-shore.  The  expense 
really  isn't  very  enormous.  In  fact,  almost  any  one  can  afford 
a  Dolly." 

I  yielded.  Human  nature  is  weak,  and  I  had  a  letter  yes 
terday  from  uncle  Ben,  saying  that  the  hay  and  corn  crops  are 
promising.  Besides,  there  is  a  sort  of  reason  just  now  why  I 
should  be  a  little  self-liberal  in  the  way  of  dress.  As  Cousin 
E.  E.  says,  people  do  expect  something  better  than  alpaca  arid 
calico  of  high  genius — especially  when  the  form  is  tall,  and  the 
figure  commensurate  to  the  genius. 

"  But  have  I  time  ?  That  French  dressmaker  will  want 
three  weeks,  at  least." 

Cousin  E.  E.  saw  by  this  that  the  austerity  of  my  economi 
cal  education  was  giving  way ;  so  she  jumped  up,  nipped  the 
slippers  from  her  feet,  and  was  soon  buttoning  her  boots  and 
tying  her  bonnet,  ready  for  a  start. 

"  Where  are  you  a-going  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Where  they'll  take  your  measure  and  send  the  Dolly  home 
to-morrow  morning,  or  down  by  express.  Leave  it  to  me,  and 
you  shall  have  something  really  beautiful." 

"  Let  there  be  plenty  of  flowers,"  says  I. 

"  Of  course,"  says  she,  "  bright,  rich  colors." 

"  Hollyhocks,"  says  I,  "  are  my  favorites ;  dandelions  and 
feather-edged  poppies  come  next ;  then  a  vine  of  trumpet  flow 
ers  tangling  the  bunches  together,  would  look  scrumptious." 
'  "  I  see  you  enter  into  the  spirit  of  it,"  says  she;  "  but  have 
you  got  everything  else  ?  " 

"  Everything  else  ?  Of  course  I  haven't.  Who  has,  in 
fact  ?  But  my  pink  dress  is  turned  wrong  side  out,  and 
packed." 

"  Have  you  a  flat  ?  "  says  she. 

"  A  flat !  I  ?  Not  that  I  can  call  my  own.  Dempster  has 
introduced  half  a  dozen,  but  I  don't  claim  them." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  men,  but  a  broad  straw  flat  that  answers 
for  a  bonnet  and  an  umbrella." 

" No,"  says  I ;  "I  have  a  Japanese  thing  that  opens  like  a 


The  Dolly  Varden.  317 

toad-stool,  and  shuts  like  a  policeman's  club.  Will  that  do  ? 
That  Japanese  embassador  gave  it  to  me,  with  such  a  tender 
look.  I  never  open  it  that  his  smile  does  not  fall  upon  me 
like  sunshine  in  a  shady  place." 

"  That  will  be  distinguished ;  take  it,  by  all  means.  But 
you  will  want  the  straw  flat,  and  a  bathing-dress  as  well." 

"  Now,  Cousin  E.  E.,  says  I,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  mean  to  bathe,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Cousin  E.  E.,  have  you  ever  seen  a  Vermont  lady — not  to 
say  a  woman  of  genius — who  did  not  bathe  ?  "  says  I,  with 
dignity. 

"  But  you  will  go  into  the  water  ?  " 

"  To  a  certain  extent,"  says  I,  if  that  has  always  been  my 
habit." 

"  But  the  ocean — salt  water  ?  " 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  salt  water  is  beyond  me ;  but  if  that  is  the 
fashion  down  at  Long  Branch,  I  don't  object  to  a  trifle  of  salt.'' 

"The  bathing  is  delightful,"  says  she.  "At  the  turn  of 
every  tide  you  see  parties  in  the  water  all  along  the  shore." 

"  Parties  in  the  water-— parties  ?  " 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen.." 

"What!!" 

"  Children,  too." 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  bathing  together !  Cousin,  you — 
well,  if  I  were  telling  a  story  like  that  to  a  congregation  of 
born  idiots,  they  might  believe  me — that's  all." 

"  But  it  is  true." 

"  And  you  call  this  a  civilized  country  !  "  says  I,  blazing 
with  indignation.  "  Emily  Elizabeth  Dempster,  do  you  mean 
fco  say  that  men  and  women — gentlemen  and  ladies — go  down 
to  the  salt  water  and  bathe  together  ?  " 

"  Indeed  they  do." 

"I  don't  believe  it!  I  won't  believe  it!  If  my  great- 
grandmother  were  to  rise  from  her  grave  and  swear  to  it,  I 
would  tell  her  to  go  back  again  and  hide  her  face.  Somebody 
has  been  imposing  on  you,  Cousin  E.  E." 


3i8  The  Dolly  Varden. 

"  Believe  it  or  not,  it  is  the  truth,"  says  E.  E.  <f  Ask 
Dempster." 

"Ask  Dempster!  Do  you  think  I  have  lost  every  grain 
of  modesty,  that  such  an  outrageous  question  should  pass  my 
lips  ?  " 

"  Well,  believe  it  or  not,  as  you  like,"  says  she,  "  I  haven't 
time  to  prove  it ;  only  it  isn't  worth  while  to  scout  at  what 
every  one  does,  and  you  are  a  little  apt  to  do  that,  Phceniie." 

((  So,  if  I  lived  among  hottentots,  I  mustn't  object  to  rancid- 
oil  on  my  hair — but  I  think  I  should,  anyhow." 

"  Well,  well ;  get  on  your  bonnet,  or  the  Dolly  Varden  will 
never  be  finished  in  time,"  says  she,  laughing. 

I  put  on  my  beehive,  and  we  both  went  right  down  town. 
On  our  way  we  saw  a  wire  woman  standing  in  a  broad,  glass 
window,  with  a  dress  on,  that  took  the  shine  off  from  anything 
I  had  ever  seen  in  the  way  of  a  dress. 

"  There  is  a  Dolly,"  says  E.  E.,  "  and  really,  now,  I  do  be 
lieve  it  would  fit  you." 

We  went  into  the  store,  had  the  wire  woman  undressed,  and 
her  Dolly  carried  up-stairs,  where  I  put  it  on,  behind  a  red 
curtain,  with  a  chatty  female  woman  hooking  it  together,  and 
buttoning  it  up  in  puffs  and  waves  that  made  me  stand  out 
like  a  race-horse  with  a  saddle  on.  The  girl  was  French,  with 
a  touch  of  the  Irish  brogue — just  enough  to  give  richness  to 
the  language. 

I  asked  her  what  was  the  reason  of  it,  and  she  said  in  their 
establishment  a  great  many  of  the  upper- crust  Irish  came  to 
trade,  and  she  had  caught  just  the  least  taste  of  a  brogue  in 
waiting  on  them — which  was  natural,  and  accounts  for  the  ac 
cent  so  many  of  these  French  girls  have,  which  I  must  own 
has  puzzled  me  a  little. 

When  my  dress  was  on,  E.  E.  and  this  French  girl  led  me 
tip  to  a  great,  tall  looking-glass,  and  stood  with  their  hands 
folded,  while  I  took  an  observation.  The  French  girl  clasped 
her  hands,  and  spoke  first : 

"  Tra  jolly,"  says  she. 


The  Dolly  Varden.  319 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  that  is  not  exactly  my  state  of  mind — com 
posed  I  may  be,  but  not  jolly,  by  any  manner  of  means." 

"  She  means  that  the  dress  is  beautiful,"  says  E.  E. 

"  Oh !  "  says  I,  "  why  didn't  she  say  so  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  did,  in  her  way." 

"  Magnifique,"  says  the  girl,  cutting  the  word  off  with  a 
squeak. 

"  Why  can't  you  open  your  mouth  wide  enough  to  say  mag 
nificent,"  says  I,  "  if  you  like  it  so  much ;  nipping  off  words 
with  a  bit0  isn't  one  thing  or  another." 

"  Oh,  but  it  is.  beside  the  dress,  that  figure,"  says  she,  a- 
spreading  her  hands. 

After  all,  the  girl  did  manage  to  express  herself.  I  was 
sorry  for  not  understanding  her  at  first. 

Before  I  could  say  this,  Cousin  E.  E.  got  out  of  patience. 

"  Does  the  dress  suit  ?  for  we  have  no  time  to  throw  away," 
says  she. 

"  Suit,"  says  I,  turning  round  and  round  with  slow  enjoy 
ment  of  that  queenly  figure  in  the  glass.  "  Of  course  it  does. 
Why,  cousin,  it  is  superb ;  the  bunching  up  is  stupendous. 
Then  the  pattern — a  whole  flower  garden  in  full  bloom." 

"Then  it  had  better"  be  sent  home  at  once,  for  we  must  go 
early  in  the  morning,"  says  she,  short  as  pie  crust. 

I  paid  for  that  Dolly  Yard  en  with  satisfaction.  It  might 
have  been  dear — I  think  it  was,  but  there  were  no  extras,  and 
I  knew  what  I  was  about  from  the  first.  Besides  it  was  a 
smashing  affair,  rain-bowish,  beautifully  puckered  up,  and 
blazing  with  flowers. 

Well,  we  went  into  .the  street,  and  then  Cousin  E.  E. 
began : 

"  One  minute,  Phremie ;  I  want  some  hair  pins." 

We  went  into  the  next  door  and  got  the  hair  pins,  then  out 
again.  After  walking  about  fifty  feet  she  broke  out  once 
more : 

"  Dear  me,  I  forgot  the  black  ribbon." 

In  she  darted  through  another  door,  and  came  out  stuffing 


32O  Starting  for  Long  Branch. 

a  bit  of  twisted  paper  into  her  pocket.     Ten  feet  more  and  she 
turned  square  about : 

"  Some  pins,  Phcemiej  I  must  get  some  pins." 
So  we  kept  darting  in  and  out  of  doors  till  there  wasn't 
another  in  the  street,  and  went  home  with  both  our  pockets 
stuffed  full  of  pins,  lace,  gloves,  combs,  buttons,  and  a  general 
assortment  of  other  small  things,  all  of  which  E.  E.  had  for 
gotten  till  the  last  minute. 

That  night  I  left  her  plunged  headforemost  into  a  huge  trunk, 
with  a  sloping  roof,  her  feet  just  touching  the  ground,  and 
complaining  bitterly  because  Dempster  was  not  at  home  to 
help  press  the  things  down. 


LXXVII. 

STARTING  FOR  LONG  BRANCH. 

|ARLY  the  next  morning  a  big  wagon-load  of  trunks 
drove  from  the  door.  Then  a  carriage  came  up  ready 
to  take  us  to  the  boat.  It  was  awful  hot,  and  the  air 
in  that  house  was  so  close  one  could  hardly  breathe.  The 
parlors  were  all  shut  up.  The  stone  girl  and  that  other  fellow 
had  white  dresses  on,  and  for  once  made  a  decent  appearance. 
The  chairs  and  sofas  were  all  done  up  in  linen,  the  blinds  were 
shut,  and  the  whole  house  looked  like  a  church  whose  minister 
had  been  sent  off  on  his  travels  at  the  expense  of  an  adoring 
congregation. 

E.  E.  and  I  stood  in  the  hall,  I  with  a  satchel  in  my  hand, 
she  with  a  little  brown  affair  buckled  on  one  side  of  her  waist. 

That  child  was  a-standing  in  the  open  door,  watching  the  men 
pile  the  trunks  on  the  wagon. 

"  Mamma,"  she  called  out,  as  the  man  drove  away,  "  I'm. 
sure  they  have  left  a  trunk,  for  I  counted,  and  there  was  only 
nineteen." 


Starting  for  Long  Branch.  321 

E.  E.  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Dempster,  Dempster !  " 

Down  came  Dempster,  looking  hot  and  worried. 

E.  E.  called  out : 

"  Do  stop  the  wagon,  something  is  left." 

Dempster  ran  into  the  street,  stopped  the  man,  and  stood  in 
the  hot  sun  counting  over  the  trunks.  His  face  was  in  a  blaze 
when  he  came  back. 

"It's  all  right,"  says  he,  "twenty  of  them,  full  count. 
Come,  get  into  the  carriage." 

E.  E.  moved  forward  a  step  or  two,  then  halted. 

"  The  basement  door— is  it  bolted  ?  " 

Dempster  dived  down  to  the  lower  hall  and  up  again,  pant 
ing  for  breath. 

"  The  scuttle,"  said  E.  E.,  pointing  upwards. 

Dempster  rushed  upstairs,  banged  away  at  the  roof,  and  ran 
down  again. 

E.  E.  drew  down  her  veil,  and  tightened  her  shawl. 

"  Oh,  Dempster,  have  you  locked  the  wine-cellar  ?  "   . 

Again  Dempster  made  a  rush  into  the  depths  of  the  earth, 
and  came  up  again  dripping  with  swe — well,  perspiration. 

"  There,  I  think  everything  is  safe  now,"  he  said,  offering 
E.  E.  his  arm. 

She  took  it  a  moment,  then  dropped  it  suddenly. 

"  Dear  me  !  Dempster,  you  haven't  been  near  the  stable, 
and  I  haven't  a  doubt  it  is  wide  open !  " 

Dempster  said  something  between  his  teeth  which  I  tried 
my  best  not  to  hear ;  then  off  he  went  down  the  pavement, 
looking  as  if  he  would  give  the  world  to  knock  some  one  down. 
By  and  by  he  came  back,  panting  like  a  mad  dog. 

"  Anything  more  !  "  says  he,  savage  as  a  jack-knife,  wiping 
his  face  with  a  white  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  says  E.  E. ;  «<  I'm  afraid  I  left  my  parasol- 
just  run  up  and  see." 

Dempster  went,  and  came  down  with  the  parasol  in  his 
hand. 

14* 


322  Starting  for  Long  Branch. 

She  took  it,  and  got  into  the  carriage.  I  followed,  and 
"  that  child "  dived  in  after  me.  Dempster  had  his  foot  on 
the  step,  when  E.  E.  broke  out  again : 

"  Oh,  darling,  what  shall  I  do? — -Snip  has  been  left  behind. 
I  think  you  will  find  her  in  the  bath-room." 

Dempster  dashed  the  handkerchief  across  his  face,  ran  up 
the  steps  in  desperate  haste,  and  by  and  by  came  out  with 
E.  E.'s  little  black  dog  in  his  arms. 

E.  E.  reached  out  her  arms,  but  Cecilia  snatched  it  from  her 
father.  That  moment  a  policeman  went  by,  and  E.  E.  leaned 
through  the  carriage  window. 

"  Why,  Dempster,  you  have  forgotten  to  see  the  policeman." 

Dempster  followed  the  man,  diving  one  hand  down  into  his 
pocket.  I  saw  him  draw  out  some  money,  which  the  man 
took  ;  then  poor  Dempster  came  back  on  a  run,  and  plunged 
into  the  carriage. 

"  Drive  on — drive  on,  I  say — or  we'll  be  too  late  for  the 
Long  Branch  boat !  " 

The  man  did  drive  on,  but  E.  E.  jerked  the  check-string. 

"  Oh,  husband,  do  oblige  me  just  this  once — I  have  left  my 
longest  back  braid  on  the  bureau  !  " 

"No,"  says  Dempster,  "  I'll  be—" 

I  put  my  hand  over  Dempster's  mouth. 

"  Dempster,"  says  I,  "  if  you  ever  want  to  be  a  Christian, 
this  is  the  place  to  begin  in,  for  here  patience  can  have  its 
perfect  work." 

My  gentle  rebuke  had  its  effect.  Dempster  got  out  of  the 
carriage,  and  once  more  mounted  those  stone  steps. 

By  and  by  he  came  back  with  a  long  braid  of  hair  trailing 
from  his  hand.  Then  he  planted  his  foot  on  the  carriage  step 
with  decision,  and  says  he : 

"  Drive  on  !  "  which  the  man  did. 


That  Hair-trunk.  323 


LXXYIII. 

THAT   HAIR-TRUNK. 

|E  AR  SISTERS :— We  are  here  at  Long  Branch,  bag 
and  baggage — Cousin  Dempster,  E.  E.,  myself,  and 
that  creature  Cecilia,  who  is  more  trouble  than  the 
whole  of  us  put  together.  We  came  down  in — not  on — the 
Plymouth  JRock,  which  is  nothing  of  the  sort,  but  a  steamboat, 
as  long  as  all  out-doors,  with  room  enough  for  a  camping- 
ground  for  the  next  generation  on  the  decks,  and  rows  of  state 
rooms  that  would  line  the  main  street  of  Sprucehill  on  both 
sides,  and  have  some  to  let.  There  was  a  whole  lot  of  fiddlers 
and  horn -players  on  board  that  began  to  play  the  minute  we 
came  in  sight — a  compliment  that  I  should  feel  more  deeply  if 
it  hadn't  become  so  common ;  but  somehow  wherever  I  go,  those 
musical  fellows  start  up,  and  grind  and  blow  till  one  almost 
begins  to  wish  for  the  privacy  of  an  obscure  position. 

Fame  is  beautiful,  and  reputation  is  the  glory  of  genius ;  but 
when  they  are  sounded  out  by  fiddles  in  broad  daylight,  and 
blasted  over  creation  by  wide-mouthed  toot-horns,  innate  mod 
esty  shrinks  within  itself. 

I  really  felt  this  way  when  a  squad  of  music-grinders  burst 
out  in  high  jubilee  the  moment  my  foot  touched  the  deck.  It 
was  a  compliment,  of  course,  but  the  sun  was  pouring  down 
upon  us,  hot  as  a  fiery  furnace. 

The  express-men  were  smashing  our  twenty-two  trunks  on 
deck  end  foremost,  caving  one  in  every  minute  or  two,  and 
I  felt  too  hot  and  anxious  for  reciprocity  when  the  musicians 
struck  up,  for  all  the  genius  and  ambition  was  just  burned  out 
of  me. 

When  we  got  aboard,  the  thermometer  was  running  up  so 
fast  that  another  hitch  would  have  made  it  boil  right  over. 
Those  glass  things  ought  to  be  made  longer  at  both  ends. 

I  haven't  a  blinding  faith  in  express-men  since  I  saw  three 


324  That  Hair-trunk. 

of  E.  E.'s  best  Saratoga  trunks  stove  in,  so  I  let  the  music 
storm  on  while  I  kept  watch  of  my  own  hair-trunk,  which 
came  down  from  my  grandmother  on  the  father's  side,  who  fed 
the  calf  that  gave  up  the  skin  that  covers  that  trunk  only  with 
its  innocent  life.  She  fed  it  with  skim-milk  from  her  own 
saucer,  and  set  store  by  the  trunk  on  that  account  up  to  the 
day  of  her  death.  Then  she  willed  it  to  me  in  a  codicil,  that 
being  more  sacred  than  the  original  testament,  she  said,  which 
I  cannot  understand — all  testaments,  old  or  new,  being  first  in 
my  estimation. 

Well,  of  course,  I  kept  watch  of  that  trunk,  and  when  I  saw 
a  great  broad  footed  Irishman  take  it  from  the  wagon  and  pitch 
it  ten  feet  on  deck,  I  just  shut  my  parasol,  clenched  it  in  the 
middle,  and  went  up  to  him. 

"  How  dare  you  pitch  my  property  on  end  in  that  way  ?  " 
says  I. 

"  I  hain't  touched  none  of  your  property,"  says  he,  a- wiping 
his  forehead  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat.  "  Never  see  a  bit  of  it." 

"  That  trunk  is  my  property,"  says  I,  pointing  toward  it 
with  my  parasol,  which  I  still  held  belligerently  by  the  middle. 

"  Well,"  says  the  fellow,  eyeing  the  trunk  sideways,  "  it 
does  look  sort  of  pecular,  but  still  I  reckon  it's  nothing  more  'en 
a  trunk,  after  all— one  of  the  hairy  old  stagers — but  only  a 
trunk,  anyhow !  " 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  with  emphatic  dignity,  for  the  honor  of  my 
ancestors  was  concerned,  "  that  is  a  traditional  trunk — a  testa 
mentary  bequest  from  my  grandmother — who  was  revolutionary 
in  her  time." 

"  What,"  says  the  man — "  what  is  that  you  say  ?  " 

Here  a  real  nice-looking  gentleman  came  up  to  where  I  stood, 
and  says  he  to  the  man: 

"  You  should  be  more  careful,  the  trunk  is  evidently  an  heir 
loom." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  says  I,  relenting  into  a  bow ;  "  it's 
only  a  hair-trunk — grandmother's  loom  went  to  another  branch 
of  the  family." 


That  Hair -trunk.  325 

C(  Well,  anyway,  I'll  put  the  crather  by  itself,  and  bring  it  to 
yez  safe,  marum,  never  fear,"  says  the  Irishman;  and  with  that 
he  sat  down  on  my  blessed  grandmother's  trunk  and  wiped  his 
face  again.  Then  he  waved  his  dirty  hand  and  motioned  that 
I  should  go  away,  which  I  did,  and  found  E.  E.  spreading  her 
skirts  out  wide  on  a  settee,  and  looking  as  innocent  as  twenty 
lambs  if  any  one  seemed  to  turn  anxiously  toward  the  extra 
seat  she  was  covering  up  for  me. 

I  took  the  seat  thankfully,  spread  my  parasol,  and  tried  to 
catch  a  mouthful  of  air,  but  there  wasn't  a  breath  stirring. 
The  water  in  the  harbor  was  smooth  as  a  looking-glass.  The 
sky  was  broad,  blue,  and  so  hot  with  sunshine  that  it  blistered 
one's  face  to  look  up. 

I  put  a  blue  veil  around  my  beehive,  and  wilted  down  into 
my  corner  of  the  settee.  Dempster  stood  by  us  blowing  himself 
with  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  but  not  a  breath  of  air  he  got. 

"  I'll  run  down  and  see  how  the  thermometer  is,"  says  he. 
"  Never — never  did  I  swelter  under  such  a  stifler  in  my  life." 

Off  he  went,  swinging  his  hat.  In  a  few  minutes  he  came 
back  again,  panting  with  the  heat. 

"It's  a  hundred,"  says  he'. 

"What?"  says  I. 

"  The  thermometer,"  says  he. 

"  And  is  it  that  which  makes  things  so  hot  ?  " 

"Of  course,"  says  he,  "  one  hundred  is  as  much  as  we  can 
bear." 

"  Then,  why  on  earth  don't  they  get  rid  of  some  ?  What  is 
the  use  of  piling-Tip  things  to  this  extent  ?  For  my  part  I 
never  will  travel  on  boats  that  carry  these  red-hot  thermome 
ters  again.  It's  as  much  as  one's  life  is  worth.  Nitro-glycerine 
is  nothing  to  it ;  that  blows  you  right  straight  up,  but  these 
other  things  pile  on  the  heat  and  never  come  to  an  end." 

Congress  ought  to  put  a  stop  to  such  dangerous  freights  be 
ing  piled- up  in  steamboats.  It's  enough  to  breed  suicides  on 
the  water. 

Dempster  wanted  to  laugh,  I  could  see  that,  but  his  face  just 


326  At  the  Branch- 

puckered  up  a  little,  and  it  was  all  he  could  do  in-  that  line. 
So  he  took  a  carnp- stool,  pulled  his  new  white  hat  over  his 
eyes,  and  fell  into  a  soggy  sort  of  sleep.  There  he  sat,  kind  of 
simmering,  like  a  baked  apple  in  the  mouth  of  an  oven,  till  the 
steamboat  stopped  on  the  end  of  a  sand-bank,  and  gave  a  lazy 
snarl,  as  if  it  was  glad  to  get  rid  of  us. 

After  this  they  packed  the  whole  cargo  of  live  people  in  a 
line  of  cars,  and  sent  them  off  sweltering  through  the  sand  with 
the  engine  roaring  before  them  like  a  fiery  dragon 


LXXIX. 

AT    THE    BRANCH. 

|Y  AND  BY,  we  came  to  Long  Branch,  where  the 
engine  gave  another  long  whoop,  and  were  turned  out 
into  the  sunshine  again  among  stages,  wagons,  car 
riages,  and  all  sorts  of  wheeled  creatures,  all  looking  as  if  they 
had  been  in  a  whirlwind  of  red  dust. 

Cousin  Dempster  had  sent  his  carriage  ahead,  and  there  his 
handsome  bay  horses  stood  sweating  themselves  black,  and 
dropping  foam  into  the  dusty  road.  We  got  in,  helter-skelter 
— no  one  cared  which  was  first — and  were  driven  toward  the 
sea-shore. 

When  we  got  in  sight  of  the  water  the  horses  made  a  sudden 
turn,  and  wheeled  into  a  wide,  dusty  street,  that  runs  right 
along  the  edge  of  the  water.  It  was  an  awful  grand  sight,  but 
the  waves  didn't  seem  to  have  strength  enough  to  move,  only 
gave  out  a  lazy  sob  once  in  a  while,  as  if  they  were  tired  of  car 
rying  so  many  loafing  ships  about  that  hadn't  spirit  enough  to 
flap  their  own  sails. 

Long  Branch  is  a  real  nice  place  after  all;  and  just  the 
broadest,  coolest,  and  most  scrumptious  tavern  in  it  is  the  Ocean 


At  the  Branch.  327 

Hotel,  which  stands  just  back  of  the  sea-shore,  stretching  its 
white  wings  widely,  from  the  centre  building  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  I  do  believe,  each  way.  Before  the  house  is  a  great  green 
lawn,  with  walks  and  carriage  roads  cut  through  it  that  lead 
from  the  house  to  the  high  bank,  against  which  the  ocean  keeps 
beating  all  the  year  round. 

On  each  side  the  walks  are  great  white  marble  flower-pots — • 
vases  they  call  them  here — choke  full  and  running  over  with 
flowers  and  vines,  and  great  broad-leaved  plants  that  looked 
cool  and  green,  hot  as  it  was. 

"  Oh,"  says  Cousin  E.  E.  "  Isn't  that  beautiful  ?  So  fresh, 
so  bright,  it  is  like  a  moving  garden." 

So  it  was.  All  along  those  deep  verandahs  that  run  clear 
across  the  front  of  the  hotel  in  double  rows,  were  swinging  bas 
kets  full  of  flowers  and  cool  green  leaves — hundreds  of  them — 
brightening  the  whole  broad  front  of  the  hotel,  and  under  them 
was  a  crowd  of  people — gentlemen,  ladies,  and  children — read 
ing,  chatting,  sleeping  in  the  great  easy  willow  chairs,  or  walk 
ing  up  and  down  on  the  soft  grass. 

Sisters,  I  know  now  exactly  the  way  an  Arab  fe'els  when  he  finds 
a  bright  spring — which  they  call  an  oasis — in  the  deserts  of 
Sahara,  and  hears  the  leaves  shiver  and  the  waters  murmur. 
This  hotel  looked  cool,  still,  and  refreshing  like  that.  All  the 
front  was  in  shadow,  before  it  lay  the  deep  blue  water.  Inside 
was  Mr.  Leland,  a  potentate  among  hotel-keepers,  ready  to 
make  us  at  home. 

There  it  was  again.  Ovations  will  follow  me.  I  had  but 
just  taken  off  my  dusty  clothes,  bathed  my  face  and  hands  with 
cold  water,  and  stepped  out  on  the  verandah,  when  a  storm  of 
music  burst  out  from  a  little  summer-house  on  -the  grass. 
Wherever  I  go  this  sort  of  ovation  follows  me.  Music  and 
flowers  seem  to  be  my  destiny.  No  matter  where  I  roam,  in  all 
the  steamboats  and  hotels  they  send  storms  of  homage  after  me. 
Well,  I  am  grateful,  and  I  hope  bear  these  honors  with  Chris 
tian  meekness. 

I  have  been  riding  all  along  the  beach.     The  sun  has  gone 


The  Race-cotirse. 

down  and  the  ocean  ripples  to  the  softest  and  blandest  wind  I 
ever  felt.  The  vessels  that  move  on  it  show  signs  of  life  now. 
Their  great  white  sails  bend  and  strain  with  a  look  of  power. 
The  day  has  been  hot,  but  a  cool  wind  comes  off  the  water,  and 
you  breathe  once  more. 

Sisters,  do  not  be  led  to  suppose  that  the  Ocean  Hotel,  large 
and  grand  as  it  is,  means  all  Long  Branch.  Why,  there  is  a 
mile  of  hotels  and  cottages  running  along  the  beach,  all  swarm 
ing  over  with  people.  As  you  ride  up  the  street  you  pass  dozens 
and  dozens  of  little  summer-houses,  full  of  young  people  look 
ing  out  at  the  sea,  which  comes  in  with  a  slow  rush  and  swell 
now  that  leaves  a  lonesome  feeling  in  the  heart.. 


LXXX. 

THE   RACE-COURSE. 

I  HERE  is  a  race-ground  three  miles  from  here,  where 
everybody  is  going  this  morning,  though  the  weather 
is  hot  and  the  ocean  is  sound  asleep,  with  great  silver 
scales  of  sunshine  trembling  over  it. 

New  York  has  come  down  in  crowds  to  Long  Branch,  and  all 
the  hotels  have  emptied  themselves  on  to  the  race-course.  Three 
miles  of  road  are  covered  with  moving  carriages,  wagons  and 
stages — one  cloud  of  yellow  dust  rolls  along  the  road  without  a 
break.  Every  carriage  is  gay  with  brightly  dressed  ladies. 
Thousands  go  up  or  down  on  the  railroad,  whose  engine  stops 
and  pours  out  clouds  of  black  smoke  close  by  the  race  track. 
From  the  cars  a  stream  of  people  flow  on  to  the  course,  packing 
themselves  into  the  benches  of  the  Grand  Stand,  or  scattering 
on  the  grass  around  it. 

When  we  got  into  the  enclosure  fifteen  thousand  people  were 
waiting,  some  in  the  hot  sun,  others  in  the  hot  shade,  all  choked 
with  dust  and  sweltering  with  heat. 


The  Race-course.  329 

"We  wore  late.  There  was  but  one  thing  that  we  wanted  to 
see :  tho  race  between  Longfellow  and  Harry  Bassett — two  of 
the  swiftest  horses  in  the  country. 

If  horses  could  gamble  I  should  call  these  two  beautiful  crea 
tures  black-legs,  and  the  gayest  of  gamboliers  ;  but  as  they  can't 
do  it  themselves  men  and  women  do  it  for  them. 

This  time  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  was  to  go  to  the  swift 
est  horse — twenty-five  thousand  dollars — enough  to  build  a 
meeting-house.  Doesn't  it  make  you  tremble  in  your  shoes ; 
but  that  isn't  all.  Everybody  was  betting  with  everybody  else, 
just  for  the  fun  of  betting. 

I  saw  a  little  shaver  there,  ten  years  old,  who  boasted  that 
he  had  won  three  pair  of  gloves  from  a  little  girl  of  eight. 

The  cream  of  that  fifteen  thousand  skimmed  itself  off  and 
consolidated  in  a  handsome  square  building  that  they  call  the 
Club  House.  We  went  there,  of  course,  and  soon  got  seats 
among  a  crowd  of  upper-tenists  on  the  roof,  which  took  in  a 
view  of  the  whole  race-ground. 

One  or  two  horses,  with  funny  little  fellows  on  their  backs, 
were  moving  up  and  down  before  the  Grand  Stand,  but  no  one 
seemed  to  care  about  them.  Harry  Bassett  and  Longfellow 
were  all  they  wanted  in  the  way  of  fast  horses. 

Sisters,  don't  fancy  now  that  Longfellow  is  of  a  poetic,  or 
even  literary,  turn  of  mind.  Nor  do  I  want  you  to  think  that 
his  owner  named  him  after  our  great  New  England  poet  because 
he  was  fired  with  admiration  of  his  genius.  Nothing  of  the 
kind.  I  don't  suppose  that  "  old  Kentucky  gentleman  "  ever 
read  a  line  of  Longfellow's  poetry  in  his  life — may  be,  though  I 
hate  to  think  so,  he  never  heard  of  him — at  any  rate  this  great, 
long,  swift,  beautiful  animal  was  named  after  himself,  and  no 
body  else.  His  body  is  long  and  slender,  very  long,  and  that  is 
why  the  colt  got  his  name.  I  wish  it  had  been  the  other  way, 
but  it  wasn't,  and  truth  is  truth.  In  fact,  I'm  afraid  literature 
isn't  appreciated  on  the  race-course.  It  takes  all  the  romance 
out  of  one  to  know  that  this  grand  young  horse  was  named  after 
his  own  body,  and  not  after  our  great  New  Englander. 


330  The  Race-course. 

Never  mind  about  the  name  now,  Harry  Basse tt  is  coming 
down  the  road,  and  slackens  his  speed  in  front  of  the  Grand 
Stand.  A  beautiful,  beautiful  animal,  with  limbs  like  a  deer, 
and  a  coat  smooth  as  satin,  colored  like  a  plump  ripe  chestnut. 
Fifteen  thousand  people  clap  their  hands,  stamp  their  feet,  shout, 
cheer,  and  flutter  out  their  handkerchiefs  as  the  horse  goes  by. 

Sisters,  you  never  saw  anything  like  it.  A  camp-meeting, 
where  every  man,  woman,  and  child  was  just  converted,  might 
be  a  comparison,  with  drawbacks. 

Harry  Bassett  took  all  this  cool  as  a  cucumber.  It  didn't 
disturb  a  hair  on  his  glossy  coat.  The  creature  knew  that  he 
was  being  admired,  and  liked  it — that  was  all.  Down  he  came 
by  the  Grand  Stand,  past  the  Club  House,  where  he  got  another 
ovation  and  another  whirlwind  of  white  handkerchiefs,  and, 
wheeling  round,  walked  back  again  and  gave  the  other  horse  a 
chance. 

Longfellow  came  next — a  little  larger,  a  little  longer,  and 
heavier  in  the  limbs — a  splendid  horse ;  but  he  did  not  take  my 
fancy  as  Harry  Bassett  did.  From  the  first  minute  I  wanted 
that  chestnut  beauty  to  beat ;  there  was  something  about  him,  I 
can't  tell  what,  but  he  suited  me. 

I  was  half  put-out  with  Longfellow  for  being  such  a  grand, 
powerful  fellow.  When  he  came  opposite  the  Grand  Stand,  out 
flew  the  handkerchiefs  and  out  rolled  the  thunder,  just  as  it  had 
when  Bassett  went  by.  Both  the  animals  were  so  handsome 
that  you  couldn't  help  clapping  your  hands. 

Bless  you,  the  splendid  creature  didn't  care  a  cent  for  it  all. 
The  crazy  applause  passed  him  like  wind.  He  liked  the  fresh  air, 
and  gloried  in  a  swift  run,  on  his  own  hook ;  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  were  nothing  to  him.  But  he  showed  off  his  mag- 
nificient  proportions  and  allowed  the  hot  sunshine  to  stroam 
over  his  brown  coat  with  the  most  abominable  indifference. 

I  insist  upon  it,  Longfellow  is  a  noble  horse,  but  not  so  hand 
some  or  so  lithe  in  his  movement  as  Bassett.  If  these  two 
creatures  should  ever  come  to  Sprucehill,  I  know  you  will  all 
stand  by  me  in  what  I  say — but  then  every  one  of  you.  woulc 


you  would 


The  Race-course.  331 

be  turned  out  of  meeting  if  you  only  looked  at  a  race-horse 
through  a  spy-glass. 

Well,  when  the  two  handsome  beasts  had  shown  themselves 
off  long  enough,  they  drew  up  together  and  made  ready  for  a 
start.  A  red  flag  was  floating  close  by  them.  There  was  no 
noise  now ;  not  a  man  in  all  those  benches  clapped  his  hands. 
Instead  of  that,  the  whole  crowd  seemed  afraid  to  breathe. 

The  red  flag  fell.  The  two  horses  started  close  together,  and 
kept  so  once  round  the  course ;  then  that  long-bodied  fellow 
began  to  stretch  himself  a  little  ahead.  They  passed  us  like 
two  arrows  shot  from  one  bow,  Longfellow's  head  showing  first. 
Once  more  they  went  round.  Now  a  roll  of  wild,  thundering 
noises  followed  them.  Longfellow  was  ahead ;  you  could  see 
a  gap  of  light  between  them.  Beautiful  Harry  Bassett  tried 
his  best;  but  that  long-bodied  trooper  just  flew,  and  came  out 
yards  ahead. 

I  declare  it  riled  me.  I  know  that  the  chestnut  beauty  could 
have  beaten  if  something  hadn't  been  the  matter  with  him. 
Poor  fellow !  he  looked  awfully  down  in  fhe  mouth  when  he 
was  ridden  up  right  into  the  whirlwind  of  noises  that  rejoiced 
over  that  other  horse.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  knew  the 
pain  and  humiliation  of  defeat,  just  as  well  as  if  he  had  been 
human ;  I  am  sure  he  did.  Still,  sisters,  I  stand  by  Harry 
Bassett. 

Oh,  mercy,  how  hot  it  was  coming  home  those  three  dusty 
miles  !  How  tired  and  thankful  I  was  when  we  got  safely  into 
the  Ocean  Hotel,  with  plenty  of  lemonade  and  ice-water,  with 
a  cool  wind  blowing  up  from  the  water. 

Sisters,  I  sometimes  think  you  do  not  quite  appreciate  all 
the  sacrifices  that  I  make  for  you.  The  great  want  of  our  so 
ciety,  has  been  a  thorough  knowledge  of  what  is  going  on  in 
the  wide  world  outside  of  Vermont  and  the  Hub.  That  defi 
ciency  I  am  determined  to  make  up  by  extra  mission  duties  in 
the  direction  of  general  human  nature.  In  order  to  prove  or 
condemn  a  thing,  one  must  see  it  in  all  its  features.  If  igno 
rance  were  goodness,- the  universe  would  be  crowded  with  pious 


332  Climbing  Sea  Cliff. 

people.  But  it  isn't  any  such  thing ;  and  your  pioneers  and 
missionaries  who  mean  to  teach,  rnusn't  be  afraid  to  learn. 
Now,  there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said  about  races,  and  if  'twere 
not  for  the  betting — which  is  gambling,  under  another  name — 
I  should  rather  like  it.  A  noble  horse  in  full  training  is  a 
brave  sight ;  and,  next  to  a  noble  man  or  woman,  I,  for  one, 
am  glad  to  see  him  put  forward.  There  isn't  a  bit  of  harm  in 
swift  running ;  but  then  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  lost  and 
won  between  two  horses,  is  a  snare  and  a  delusion  that  the  noble 
beasts  have  nothing  to  do  with.  I  do  not  like  that,  and  am 
quite  sure  that  you  will  make  it  a  subject  of  particular  de 
nunciation.  I  hope  you  will.  Not  that  such  things  have  ever 
found  a  mite  of  countenance  in  Vermont ;  but  horses  are  raised 
there,  and  that  may  lead  to  something  dreadful.  If  a  patch  of 
ground  level  enough  for  a  race-course  can  be  found  in  the 
State,  some  of  these  New  Yorkers  will  be  for  fencing  it  in ; 
and  the  way  they  are  progressing  here,  some  ambitious  fellow 
may  be  wanting  to  charter  the  Green  Mountains  for  a  hurdle, 
for  horses  all  but  fly  in  these  parts. 

Understand  me — I  am  not  blaming  the  animals — they  are 
just  splendid;  but  betting,  especially  among  women,  is  my 
abomination.  It  is  an  open  gate  through  which  feminines 
slide  into  a  habit  of  gambling.  I  don't  like  it,  and  the  sooner 
our  American  feminine  women  know  my  opinion,  the  sooner 
they  will  be  ready  to  turn  back  and  consider  what  they  are 
about. 


LXXXi. 

CLIMBING   SEA   CLIFF. 


jEAB,    SISTERS :— You   are   right.       My   mind   has 
been  too  much  in  the  world.     I  have  been  led  into 
walks  of  life  that  do  not  accurately  jibe  with  the  pious 
experiences  of  former  days.     I  confess  my  shortcomings  with 


'• 


Climbing  Sea  Cliff.  333 

humiliation,  and  am  resolved  on  a  season  of  mission  duties 
in  another  direction  than  horse-races.  They  are  exciting, 
and  give  one  a  high-stepping  inclination.  Still,  my  motive  is 
good. 

"  Try  all  things,  and  hold  fast  to  that  which  is  good,"  is 
scriptural,  but  on  some  occasions  may  be  temptations,  espec 
ially  when  the  thing  that  is  good  happens  to  be  disagreeable, 
and  the  other  is  awfully  enticing. 

Any  way,  sisters,  I  am  determined  to  do  my  duty  in  every 
walk  of  life,  and  the  foremost  duty  this  moment  takes  me  far 
away  from  Long  Branch,  puts  me  on  two  steamboats  and  two 
short  snatches  of  railroads,  which  land  me  at  the  foot  of  a 
great,  sandy,  high-sloping  hill — some  people  call  it  a  bluff — 
but  which  religious  people  of  several  denominations  call  "  Sea 
Cliff  Grove." 

Now,  Sea  Cliff  Grove  is  a  sacred  institution,  lifted  high  up 
toward  Heaven,  and  bathed  in  an  especial  odor  of  sanctity, 
conglomerated  from  ever  so  many  different  churches,  and  so 
centralized  in  a  place  that  may,  to  the  fanciful  mind,  be  consid 
ered  a  city  set  on  a  hill. 

Indeed,  it  is.  If  Jordan  is  a  hard  road  to  travel,  Sea  Cliff 
Grove  is  an  awful  hill  to  climb,  even  in  a  covered  stage,  with 
two  long,  thin  horses  dragging  the  blessed  pilgrims  upward 
with  all  their  might. 

Before  we  got  clear  up,  there  was  now  and  then  an  encour 
aging  glimpse  of  brightness  from  the  dome  of  the  tabernacle, 
covered  over  with  tin,  which  blazed  and  sparkled  and  shone  in 
the  hot  sunshine,  till  it  set  one's  brain  to  sweltering.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  a  cool  fringe  of  trees  running  along  the  edge 
of  the  hill,  it  seemed  to  me"  as  if  the  whole  bluff  must  have 
burned  up,  and  gone  off  in  a  blaze  of  glory.  That  dome,  which 
looked  like  a  great  cone,  roofed  in  with  milk-pans  set  on  edge, 
was  the  crowning  glory  of  a  new  tabernacle — not  the  one  built 
without  hands,  for  it  took  a  great  many  hands  to  build  this 
great,  rambling  affair,  besides  the  cottages  and  tents  and  long, 
open  stoops,  that  look  out  on  the  sea  from  morning  till  night. 


334  Climbing  Sea  Cliff. 

Among  these  tents  and  little  houses  and  the  great  taberna 
cle,  the  man  who  drove  us  took  his  ten  cents  a-piece,  and  set 
us  down,  and  wheeled  about,  singing  "  Old  Hundred "  to  his 
horses,  and  swinging  his  whip  with  slow  solemnity  as  he  lum 
bered  down  hill  again. 

Then  we  started  off  afoot  in  search  of  Cousin  Dempster's 
cottage,  for  he  had  sent  on  ahead,  and  hired  one  of  the  little 
cubby-houses  for  us  to  stay  in  till  the  religious  season  was 
over. 

We  found  our  cubby-house  at  last,  but  somebody  else  had 
got  their  nine  points  of  the  law  out  of  it.  So  the  man  sent  on 
beforehand  had  pitched  a  tent  on  the  grass,  which  we  went 
into  like  Indians  just  returned  from  a  hunting-party — dusty, 
thirsty,  and  sort  of  wolfish  for  something  to  eat. 

We  took  off  our  bonnets,  and  pinned  them  by  the  strings  to 
the  walls  of  the  tent,  which  were  of  the  best  tow-cloth  I  ever 
saw  out  of  Vermont.  Then  we  shook  ourselves,  as  hens  do 
when  they  have  been  rolling  in  the  dust,  and  pushed  back  our 
hair  with  both  hands,  which  E.  E.  said  was  making  a  rural 
toilet  worthy  of  the  occasion.  Then  I,  with  the  kindest  inten 
tions,  shook  out  E.  E.'s — full  panier — and  found  it  puckered- 
up  with  green  burdock  burs,  which  she  had  got  on  from  the 
weeds  on  her  way  to  the  tent.  These  I  picked  off,  one  by  one, 
while  she  was  stamping  her  foot  with  a  spirit  that  shocked  me 
dreadfully  in  that  sacred  place,  for  all  around  us  the  people 
were  singing  and  praying,  and  shouting  "  Hallelujah  "  and 
t(  Amen  "  and  "  Glory,"  in  a  way  that  made  the  pious  teach 
ings  of  my  grandmother  rile  up  within  me.  I  looked  upon  the 
burdock  burs  as  a  judgment  upon  Mrs.  Dempster,  especially  as 
I  hadn't  any  puckerings  in  my  dress  to  catch  them  in,  and  she 
had  brought  all  her  wordliness  on  her  back. 


Fighting  for  the  Body.  335 


LXXXII. 

FIGHTING    FOR    THE    BODY. 

)Y  AND  BY  the  shouts  and  noises  hushed  up  a  little, 
and  there  was  a  stampede,  like  a  rush  of  cattle,  in  the 
grounds. 

"  Come,"  says  Dempster,  "  or  we  shall  get  nothing  to  eat." 

"Does  that  mean  dinner?"  says  E.  E.,  with  a  hungry 
look. 

"  Just  that,"  says  Dempster,  "  so  look  sharp  ;  for  here  it  is 
every  man  for  himself,  and  the " 

"  Dempster  !  "  said  I,  stepping  back  with  pious  horror,  "  do 
you  know  where  you  are  ?  " 

"  Exactly ;  but  I  know,  too,  that  unless  we  look  sharp,  we 
shall  feel  flat  when  we  get  to  the  dining-hall  and  find  every 
thing  swept  off." 

We  took  the  hint.  I  lifted  the  skirt  of  my  alpaca  dress 
gently,  between  my  thumb  and  forefinger,  just  enough  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  ankle  without  revealing  it,  and  went  out  of  the 
tent,  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  place,  but  humiliated  with 
worldly  craving. 

Sisters,  if  the  denizens  of  this  Sea  Cliff  are  only  half  as 
earnest  in  their  souls'  salvation  as  they  are  in  replenishing 
poor,  frail  human  nature,  there  will  be  a  glorious  harvest  of 
regeneration  this  holy  season.  The  way  they  poured  out  of 
the  tents,  the  houses,  the  long  stoops,  and  through  the  bushes 
was  fluttering  and  noisy  as  the  flight  of  ten  thousand  chickens 
from  a  barn-yard.  Still  the  crowd  did  not  break  all  at  once 
from  the  spiritual  to  the  temporal  wants  of  human  nature. 
They  kept  on  praying  and  singing  in  breaks  and  snatches  clear 
up  to  the  dining-hall,  when  the  old  earthly  Evil  One  got  upper 
most,  and  each  man  seizing  a  knife  and  fork,  went  at  the  first 
dish  he  saw,  and  held  on  to  it  with  one  hand,  while  he  did 
double  express  duty  with  the  other. 


336  Fighting  for  the  Body. 

Sisters,  this  crowd  of  sinners  sanctified,  and  to  be  sanctified, 
was  made  up  of  about  the  hungriest  mortals  that  I  ever  set 
eyes  upon.  The  way  those  safety-seeking  souls  took  care  of 
their  bodies  was  regenerating,  I  can  tell  you.  For  my  part, 
after  seeing  every  dish  swept  away  from  before  me,  with  Chris 
tian  fortitude  becoming  to  the  place,  my  carnal  nature  rose  up 
permost,  and,  seizing  upon  a  plate  of  summer  squash,  I  held 
on  to  it  valiantly,  while  E.  E.  snatched  a  potatoe  with  its 
jacket  on,  from  a  flying  dish,  and  Dempster  wrestled  with  one 
of  the  saints  for  a  plate  of  bread,  as  Jacob  wrestled  with  the 
angels  ;  only  this  saint  was  six  feet  high,  wore  a  hood-brimmed 
straw  hat,  and  carried  off  the  plate  of  bread  in  his  hands,  after 
all. 

I  greatly  fear  Cousin  Dempster  didn't  meet  this  test  of  a 
meek  and  lowly  spirit  with  the  fortitude  of  a  martyr.  In  fact, 
I'm  afraid  he  said  something  beside  "  Amen "  between  his 
grinding  teeth,  when  that  plate  disappeared. 

As  for  E.  E.  and  myself,  we  got  a  spoon  between  us,  and 
dined  on  the  squash,  generously  giving  up  the  potato  to 
Dempster,  with  an  admonition  which  did  not  seem  to  suit  him 
much  better  than  that  stone-cold  vegetable. 

Well,  when  we  had  vegetated  the  inner  man  to  this  extent, 
and  watched  the  swarm  of  hungry  eaters  devouring  the  food 
like  a  cloud  of  ravenous  locusts,  Cousin  Dempster  laid  down 
his  potato-peel  on  the  table  with  mournful  sadness,  and  said, 
plaintively : 

"  This  is  all  we  are  likely  to  get ;  let  us  go." 

"  Wait,"  says  I,  f(  some  one  is  going  to  return  thanks." 

((  What,  for  two  spoonfuls  of  squash  and  one  hollow-hearted 
potato  for  three  of  us  ?  Never !  "  says  Dempster. 

Really,  sisters,  the  spirit  will  have  a  tough  job  before  it 
brings  the  proud  nature  of  Cousin  Dempster  into  a  state  of 
perfect  sanctification.  E.  E.  and  I  gave  him  a  beautiful  exam 
ple,  and  looked  as  humbly  grateful  as  two  hungry  female 
women  could,  over  a  double  spoonful  of  watery  squash ;  I  fear 
he  did  not  appreciate  it  though,  for  when  a  deep  Amen  rolled 


Lions  and  Lambs.  337 

down  the  hall,  after  the  thanks  were  given,  he  meanly  growled 
out — well,  a  very  peculiar  word,  that  made  my  heart  jump  into 
my  mouth.  In  any  other  place,  I  should  write  out  boldly  that 
Cousin  Dempster — but  in  that  out-door  sanctuary — no,  the 
secret  of  what  he  said  shall  go  with  me  to  my  grave. 


LXXXIII. 

LIONS   AND    LAMBS. 

lISTEES:— The  tabernacle  under  that  tin  roof  will 
hold,  well  packed,  six  hundred  anxious  souls — each 
with  a  weak,  human  body  attached.  The  seats  are 
all  cushioned  with  the  softest  pine,  and  have  luxurious  board 
backs.  A  stage  rises  grandly  for  the  ministers  of  many 
churches  who  harmonize  and  fraternize  like  lions  and  lambs, 
each  she'pherding  his  own  flock  and  drawing  converts  into  his 
fold,  wherever  he  can  find  a  straggling  sinner  .on  his  knees. 
The  dining-room  all  at  once  emptied  itself  into  the  tabernacle ; 
the  ministers  mounted  the  stage,  and  out  in  front  came  a  man 
whose  first  words  woke  you  up  like  the  blast  of  a  war  trumpet. 

A  stout,  smart,  almost  grand-looking  man,  who  looked  over 
the  crowd  as  if  he  owned  every  man  and  woman  in  it,  and 
meant  to  regenerate  them  in  flocks,  or  turn  them  over  to  what- 
you-may-call-him  at  once.  His  dark  face,  broad  forehead,  and 
silver-gray  hair  looked  strong,  if  not  handsome.  His  light 
eyes  gleamed  out  from  behind  a  pair  of  gold  spectacles,  and 
when  he  got  in  earnest  his  heavy  brows  drew  together  and  left 
deep  lines  between  them  which  made  him  look  stronger  yet. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  I  whispered  to  Cousin  D. 

"  Inskip,"  says  he,  "  the  greatest  gun  amongst  them." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  says  I. 

There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  for  that  great  gun  was  pour- 
15 


338  Lions  and  Lambs. 

ing  a  hot  storm  of  eloquence  into  the  crowd,  and  stirring  it  up 
as  a  north-easter  lashes  the  hemlocks  on  our  mountains. 
Sisters,  the  scene  was  wonderfully  impressive.  I  felt  the  old 
revival  spirit  in  all  my  bones.  When  he  stopped  a  minute  for 
the  crowd  to  say  Amen,  the  word  rattled  out  like  a  discharge 
of  guns  on  a  training  day. 

By  and  by  his  discourse  grew  warmer  and  more  startling. 
Ho  just  pitched  headforemost  into  the  cause,  and  stirred  up 
that  great  congregation  like  a  tornado.  The  Arnens  grew 
noisy,  and  were  let  off  from  lip  to  lip  like  fire-crackers  on  a 
Fourth  of  July.  Then  some  one  sang  out  "  Hallelujah  !  "  and 
another  "  Glory,  Glory,  Glory  !  "  till  the  whole  congregation 
broke  into  a  young  earthquake.  Some  started  up,  some  rocked 
on  their  seats,  and  half  a  dozen  fell  to  the  ground,  trembling, 
praying,  and  shouting  "  Hallelujah." 

There  was  a  mixture  of  all  sorts  of  people  in  the  crowd, 
which  made  it  yeast  over  like  a  baking  of  bread  when  the 
rising  is  lively.  When  one  got  a-going  the  rest  set  in.  Half 
the  crowd  were  crying  and  the  other  half  clapping  hands. 

Then  Mr.  Inskip  rested  a  little,  and  a  real  handsome  young 
gentleman  stood  up  and  sung  beautifully.  When  he  got 
through,  the  crowd  joined  in,  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
singing  on  his  own  hook,  which  was  noisy,  and  might  have 
been  harmonious  if  half  of  them  had  settled  on  the  same 
tune,  which  they  did,  but  cut  across  each  other  and  sung 
out  "  Glory,"  when  they  forgot  everything  else,  which  made 
the  music  a  little  uneven. 

Of  course  when  a  crowd  like  that  gets  a-going  in  a  full  blast 
of  eloquence,  stirring  up  consciences,  and  dancing  and  thrilling 
along  the  nerves,  there  is  sure  to  be  a  whirlwind  of  magnetism 
heaving  souls  against  each  other  till  they  cry  out  with  the 
shock. 

I  looked  around ;  the  crowd  was  all  in  commotion ;  every 
face  burned  with  excitement  of  some  kind,  for  under  that  man's 
voice  human  nature  was  stirred,  aroused,  lashed  into  a  fury  of 
wild  enthusiasm.  Female  women  grew  pale,  and  trembled  011 


Lions  and  Lambs.  339 

the  hard  seats  ;  men  wilted  down  into  childish  softness ;  chil 
dren  cried  and  shouted. 

Before  the  stage  was  an  open  space,  left  free  for  sinners 
under  conviction  to  come  up  and  beseech  the  thrice- regenerated 
ministers  to  exhort  and  pray  for  them.  Into  this  space  those 
mostly  stricken  in  the  crowd,  came  like  sheep  looking  for  a 
shelter,  some  sobbing,  some  praying,  some  half  sullen,  as  if  the 
man's  eloquent  pleading  for  souls  had  forced,  rather  than  per 
suaded  them  into  that  "  Pen  of  the  Penitents."  But  with  each 
new  convert,  Brother  Inskip  broke  forth  in  a  new  place,  and 
the  crowd  shouted  " Glory!"  "Amen!"  "Hallelujah!" 
till  you  could  not  hear  yourself  think. 

The  enthusiasm  was  catching.  I  felt  it  blaze  and  tremble 
over  me  from  the  crown  of  my  head  to  the  sole  of  my  foot,  and 
when  a  young  minister  joined  in,  and  poured  the  notes  of  a 
beautiful  hymn  on  the  tumult,  my  heart  fairly  swelled  with  the 
glory  of  it. 

I  looked  around  for  my  cousins. 

There  was  Dempster,  with  the  eyes  fairly  dancing  in  his 
head,  clapping  his  hands  like  an  overgrown  boy,  though  he  did 
drop  them  when  he  met  my  look,  and  turned  his  head  away, 
half  ashamed  of  his  own  feelings. 

I  looked  around  for  E.  E.,  who  sat  with  her  mouth  half 
open,  while  sobs  came  through  her  trembling  lips. 

"  Oh,  cousin,  cousin,  what  shall  I  do  ?  Have  I  really  been 
regenerated,  or  has  the  Lord  sent  me  here  this  day  to  be  made 
a  new  creature  ?  " 

I  did  not  answer  her ;  there  was  no  chance  for  free  thought 
or  cool  reason  in  a  crowd  like  that.  In  fact,  I  began  to  feel 
like  a  vile  sinner,  myself,  and  as  if  being  unregenerated  was  the 
duty  of  every  female  woman  every  time  a  camp-meeting  offered 
a  good  opportunity.  Seeing  E.  E.  crying  there  as  if  her  heart 
were  breaking  up,  and  both  men  and  women  wild  with  joy  or 
grief  all  around  me,  I  just  caved  in,  pulled  out  my  handker 
chief,  and  sobbed  with  them,  though  what  on  earth  we  were 
all  crying  about  I  couldn't  have  told  to  save  my  life. 


340  Experiences. 

The  truth  was,  the  more  some  women  cried  the  more  others 
shouted;  and  when  the  meeting  was  over,  everybody  told 
everybody  else  what  a  refreshing  time  they  had  experienced 
under  Brother  Inskip's  preaching,  which  was  true  as  the  Gos 
pel,  if  tears  refresh  the  soul  as  rain  does  the  earth. 


LXXXIV. 

EXPERIENCES. 

IFTER  the  preaching  was  done,  the  crowd  broke  up 
into  sections  and  had  a  half-dozen  prayer-meetings 
and  spontaneous  love-feasts,  where  men  and  women, 
and  sometimes  little  children,  got  up  and  told  all  the  strangers 
within  hearing  how  wicked  they  had  been — with  tears,  and 
sobs,  and  groans,  that  made  one's  heart  ache.  Still  one  and  all 
of  them  seemed  to  enjoy  their  own  depravity  and  put  them 
selves  down  as  such  horrible  sinners,  that  any  amount  of  pray 
ing  could  not  have  dug  them  out  of  the  degradation  into  which 
they  dived  headforemost  and  seemed  to  revel  in,  for  a  thousand 
years  at  least. 

Everybody  told  his  experience. 

Among  the  rest,  a  young  man  from  the  Hub,  slim  as  a  bean 
pole  and  fiery  as  a  race-horse,  prayed  and  shouted,  and  sung, 
and  blazed  away  at  the  crowd,  like  all  possessed.  His  straight, 
black  hair  was  parted  down  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  and 
his  mustache  rose  and  fell  like  fury  as  the  words  o£  warning 
came  like  red-hot  shot  through  his  lips. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  says  I  to  Cousin  Dempster,  who  was  listen 
ing  with  all  his  heart. 

"  That,"  says  he,  "  is  Corbett,  the  young  fellow  who  shot 
Wilkes  Booth  through  the  crevices  of  the  old  barn  in  which  he 
had  taken  shelter." 


Experiences.  34! 

I  shuddered  all  over,  and  I'm  afraid  the  spirit  of  prayer  had 
a  shock. 

That  young  man  was  about  the  last  person  I  should  have 
expected  to  see  praying,  storming,  and  exhorting  at  a  camp- 
meeting.  He  told  us  all  how  he  had  become  so  sanctified  by 
the  Lord,  that  small-pox  could  not  touch  him,  though  he  went 
into  the  midst  of  it  and  nursed  people  down  with  the  deadly 
disease,  right  straight  through. 

^  In  fact,  he  seemed  to  think  sanctification  a  certain  preventa- 
tive  against  small-pox,  only  I  suppose  you  must  be  sure  to  get 
the  genuine  thing,  just  as  he  had  got  it. 

Then  another  little  fellow  got  up  and  told  us  that  he  had 
been  an  awful  bad  boy  in  his  early  days,  and  learned  to  chew 
tobacco  and  drink  cider-brandy  when  he  wasn't  more  than 
knee-high  to  a  grasshopper.  That  the  cider-brandy  and  tobacco 
had  stuck  in  and  defiled  him  through  and  through,  till  nothing 
but  saving  grace  could  have  washed  him  clean  and  made  his 
soul  white  as  a  lamb,  which  it  then  was,  Glory  hallelujah. 

All  the  congregation  chimed  in  here  and  struck  up  a  solemn 
chorus  of  Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  Glory,  which  ended  in  a  re 
joicing  «  Amen,"  when  the  young  man  informed  us  that  relig 
ion  had  reformed  all  his  depraved  tastes,  and  now  he  both 
hated  and  despised  cider-brandy,  tobacco,  and  all  the  abomina 
tions  he  had  formerly  hankered  after. 

Before  the  young  man  sat  down,  another  was  on  his  feet 
brimming  over  with  sympathy. 

"  I  too,"  says  he,  «  have  got  an  experience  which  urges  me  to 
bear  testimony  that  what  our  precious  brother  says  is  true      I 
know  it.     I  feel  it  in  my  own  soul,  for  1,  too,  have  met  with 
egeneration,  whereby  all   things  with  me  have  become  new 
Why,  brethren,  before  I  got  religion  I  couldn't  bear  the  si-ht 
f  tomatoes,  cooked  or  raw.     They  were  an  abomination  to  my 
unconverted  mind;  but  now  that  I  have  got  religion,  there 
isn  t  a  wigitable  that  grows,  which  I  set  store  by  as  I  do  toma- 
toeses.     So  I  can  testify  that  old  things  pass  away,  and  every 
thing  becomes  new." 


342  The  Second  Day. 

After  bearing  this  testimony,  the  man  wiped  his  mouth  with 
one  hand,  and  sat  down,  his  head  meekly  bowed. 

"  Cousin,"  says  I  to  E.  E.,  "as  camp-meetings  do  riot  belong 
to  our  special  persuasion,  and  as  I  do  not  feel  the  regenerating 
spirit  grow  strong  in  my  bosom  just  at  present,  supposing  you 
and  I  go  back  to  the  tent  ?  Don't  you  see  it  is  getting  to  be 
after  dark  now,  and  we  have  had  an  awfully  warm  day  in  all 
respects." 

Cousin  E.  E.  arose,  looking  heavy-eyed  and  worn  out. 

"  Yes,  Pho3mie,"  says  she,  "  I  have  gone  through  a  good 
deal,  and  feel  the  nothingness  of  everything  but  religion.  Oh, 
cousin,  if  one  could  always  feel  as  we  do  here." 

I  shook  my  head,  but  only  answered : 

"  Come,  cousin,  we  can  hear  the  still,  small  voice  better 
alone  in  our  tent." 

She  yielded,  and  we  started  to  make  the  best  of  our  way  out 
of  the  crowd,  but  five  or  six  thousand  persons  swarmed  around 
that  regenerating  camp-ground,  and  it  was  some  time  before  we 
got  safely  into  our  own  tent.  Then  I  sat  down  by  Cousin  E. 
E.,  drew  a  deep,  long  breath,  and  said,  "  Thank  goodness," 
with  all  my  heart. 


LXXXY. 

THE    SECOND   DAY. 

|EAE  SISTERS : — I  have  been  two  days  at  this  camp, 
meeting,  fasting,  because  I  have  given  up  the  fight 
about  something  to  eat,  and  awake  all  night  because 
the  hot  weather  almost  drove  me  into  the  anxious  seat,  from 
dread  of  a  hotter  place. 

I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  the  way  I  have  been  walking 
this  straight  and  narrow  path  of  missionary  duty.  I  wish  I 
could  say  quiet  path,  but,  being  of  an  honest  turn  of  mind,  I 


The  Second  Day.  343 

must  say  it  is  both  steep  and  noisy.  •  Just  at  this  minute  a 
prayer-meeting  and  revival  is  going  on  in  the  next  tent  to  ours 
and   the  groaning  and  shouting  is  enough  to  drive  one  crazy. 
The  tent  is  crowded  full  of  women  and  children,  and  I  don't 
know  which  jump  the  highest  or  make  the  most  noise. 

Well,  I  am  not  a  wife — which  you  know  is  not  my  fault ; 
neither  am  I  a  mother,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  I  am 
grateful  for ;  but  why  little  boys  and  girls  should  be  brought 
here,  and  put  in  the  way  of  a  second  birth,  puzzles  me.  One 
event  of  that  kind  ought  to  be  enough  for  any  family  of  mod 
erate  ambition.  '  In  fact,  I  know  of  people  who  would  do  with 
out  any,  with  Christian  fortitude.  But  here  we  are — men, 
women,  and  children— trying  to  save  each  other  with  all  our 
might,  and  doing  it  in  a  way  that  brings  strangers  together 
with  a  jerk  sometimes. 

Just  as  we  were  coming  into  the  camping-ground  this  morn 
ing,  where  the  whole  road  was  beginning  to  swarm  again,  a 
nice  old  lady,  in  a  gray  dress,  and  with  a  little,  white  muslin 
shawl  pinned  over  her  bosom,  came  up  to  me,  and,  lifting  her 
meek  eyes  from  under  her  sugar-scoop  bonnet,  informed  me 
that  the  Spirit  was  upon  her.  She  was  exercised  with  a  sense 
of  duty  regarding  my  sinful  condition,  which  was  miserably 
apparent  in  the  white  feather  that  curlecued  itself  around  my 
hat,  and  the  cut  of  my  gaiter  boots  that  had  heels  enough  to 
send  a  dozen  souls  to  everlasting  ruin. 

I  looked  down  at  my  boot,  which  is  a  scrumptious  one,  and 
said,  with  thankfulness-,  that  I  couldn't  see  anything  in  them  that 
should  carry  the  souls  off;  besides,  they  could  be  heeled  again. 

The  woman  shook  her  sugar-scoop  bonnet  at  me,  mournfully, 
and  said  something  about  a  wicked  and  perverse  generation, 
as  if  all  mankind  were  standing  in  my  gaiter  boots,  and  she 
was  rebuking  it  in  a  lump. 

"  Oh,  sister  !  "  says  she,  "  if  I  could  only  make  you  see  with 
my  eyes,  and  hear  with  my  ears  !  Why  will  you  be  so  per. 
verse  ?  Have  you  no  fear  of  the  eternal  flame  that  burneth 
and  burneth  forever  ?  " 


344  The  Second  Day. 

"  Fear !  "  says  I,  a-looking  up  at  the  hot  sun,  and  wiping 
my  forehead.  "  I  should  think  so !  If  all  creation  has  a  hot 
ter  place  than  this,  I'm  too  big  a  coward  to  hurry  that  way. 
If  there  is  an  ice-house  in  the  neighborhood,  I  should  prefer 
that  by  all  manner  of  means,  by  way  of  a  punishment,  if  I  de 
serve  any." 

"  Ice !  "  says  she,  solemnly.  (f  Ice !  have  you  never  read  the 
Scriptures  ?  " 

"  Several  times,"  says  I,  with  sarcastic  forbearance.  "  My 
father  had  a  book  of  that  kind,  which  he  sometimes  opened." 

She  could  not  understand  the  delicate  irony 'of  this  answer; 
but  pressed  forward  like  an  old  camp-meetinger  as  she  was. 

"  Did  that  good  father  never  read  of  a  place  where  a  drop  of 
water  could  not  be  found  to  cool  a  certain  person's  tongue  ?  " 
says  she.  "  If  not,  your  paternal  ancestor  fell  short  of  his 
duty.  It  is  no  wonder  his  child  should  have  gone  half  through 
life  without  a  ray  of  saving  grace,  and  with  a  white  feather  in 
her  hat." 

Sisters,  I  was  riled.  "  Half  through  life,"  says  I.  "  Madam, 
do  you  know  how  old  I  am  ?  " 

She  looked  at  me  half  a  minute,  with  all  the  eyes  in  her 
head ;  then,  with  the  cool  air  of  a  woman  counting  money,  said, 
«  about  for—" 

Sisters,  I  cannot  repeat  the  audacious  falsehood  of  that  creat 
ure's  calculation.  It  was  enough  to  rile  up  venom  in  the  heart 
of  a  born  cherubim.  If  ever  a  fiend  took  the  disguise  of  a  su 
gar-scoop  bonnet,  I  have  encountered  one.  A  heart  of  stone 
lay  under  the  innocent  folds  of  that  muslin  half-shawl. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  with  a  look  of  overpowering  indignation, 
"you  must  have  begun  and  ended  your  arithmetic  in  multipli 
cation.  Take  off  half  of  the  years  you  have  mentioned." 

The  woman  smiled  so  knowingly,  that  I  longed  to  —  Well, 
no  matter,  she  smiled,  and  says  she : 

"  At  any  rate,  you  are  not  too  old  for  the  mercy-seat." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  says  I. 

"  Look  yonder." 


The  Second  Day.  345 

I  looked  at  half  a  dozen  children  jumping,  kneeling,  pray 
ing,  and  singing  before  the  revival  tent,  which  had  been  so  full 
of  worrying  noises  all  night  long,  that  none  of  us  had  got  a 
wink  of  sleep. 

"  Look,"  says  she  ;  "  unless  you  are  born  again,  and  become 
like  one  of  these,  there  will  be  no  chance  that  you  will  ever 
enter  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

I  looked  at  the  lovely  children,  and  I  looked  at  her. 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  I,  "  the  object  don't  seem  quite  equal  to 
the  trouble.  I  have  no  notion  of  going  backward  in  my  life. 
In  the  first  place  I  was  too  handsome  a  baby  in  the  beginning 
to  hanker  after  a  change,  and  since  then — I  say  nothing ;  but 
really,  I  have  seen  a  good  many  people  that  claim  to  have  been 
born  again,  and,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  they  don't  look  a  mite 
better,  or  a  day  younger,  after  taking  all  the  trouble,  which  is 
discouraging." 

"  Discouraging  !  "  said  the  woman  ;  "  why,  you  are  talking 
of  regeneration  !  Come — come  with  me  to  the  anxious-seat — 
hundreds  are  nocking  there  now." 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  T,  "  if  you  please.  Crabs  may  change 
their  shells,  and  snakes  creep  out  of  their  skins — I  rather  think 
they  do  sometimes — but  borh-again  females  look  so  much  like 
the  old  pattern,  that  it  don't  seem  to  me  worth  trying  after 
one  is  grown  up." 

"  Many  an  older  person  than  you  are  has  been  born  again," 
says  she. 

"  You  don't  say  so,"  says  I,  a- fanning  myself  with  a  palm- 
leaf,  for  every  drop  of  blood  in  my  body  grew  hot  when  she 
talked  about  my  age,  and  I  was  mad  enough  to  bite  a  tenpenny 
nail  in  two  with  my  front  teeth. 

"Yes,  I  do  say  so,  humble  as  I  am,"  says  Sugar-scoop. 
"  Look  out  there.  See  those  women  in  Israel — three  precious 
souls,  just  gathered  into  the  fold.  For  two  days  they  have 
been  constantly  at  the  redemption-seat.  The  spirit  is  upon 
them  now.  Their  souls  are  struggling  to  be  free.  Before 
another  morning  they  will  be  born  again." 
15* 


346  The  Second  Day. 

I  looked  at  a4group  of  women  she  pointed  out,  and  the  human 
nature  within  me  yeasted  over.  They  were  three  of  the  home 
liest  creatures  I  ever  set  eyes  on — long  and  lank,  with  faces 
like  sour  baked-apples. 

"  Oh,  my  beloved  sister^"  says  Sugar-scoop,  a-laying  her  cot 
ton-gloved  hand  on  mine ;  "  can  you  look  on  that  heavenly 
sight  and  not  pray  to  be  like  unto  them  ?  " 

I  shook  the  cotton  glove  from  my  arm,  and  tjie  hand  that 
was  in  it,  just  as  St.  Paul  shook  off  the  viper. 

"  Like  them,  madam — like  them !  If  I  were  one-half  as 
lank  and  homely,  I  should  want  to  be  born  again  once  a  week, 
at  least." 

Sugar-scoop  lifted  both  hands  in  awful  horror. 

"  There  are  souls,"  says  she,  "  given  up  to  eternal  darkness, 
I  fear.  Oh,  sister,  how  I  tremble  for  yours !  " 

I  was  trembling  with  indignation.  What  right  had  this 
woman  to  assault  me  in  this  fashion  ?  I  did  not  know  her  ; 
she  did  not  know  me.  My  white  feather  was  a  badge  of  noble 
patriotism  ;  my  gaiter  boots  fitted  a  foot  that  has  been  an  ob 
ject  of  encomium  with  every  shoemaker  who  has  been  honored 
by  taking  its  measure — to  say  nothing  of  a  glance  given  it  by 
imperial  eyes.  Does  religious  zeal  justify  uncivil  intrusion  ? 
What  right  had  this  sugar-scoopy  woman  to  exhort  me  ?  How 
did  she  know  that  my  heart  was  not  already  in  the  right 
path  ?  " 

I  asked  this  very  question  : 

"  Madam,"  says  I,  "  by  what  right  do  you  pretend  to  teach 
me,  a  stranger,  of  whose  life  you  can  know  nothing?  " 

"  I'm  in  the  service  of  the  Lord,"  says  she,  "  looking  up 
lost  sheep.  When  I  find  one,  torn  and  draggled  with  sin,  it  is 
my  duty  to  drive  it  into  the  fold,  where  its  fleece  can  be  worked 
white  as  snow." 

"  But  how  can  you  tell  ?  By  what  authority  do  you  claim 
the  right  to  judge  of  a  person  you  have  never  seen  ?  " 

tf  Are  we  not  told  to  go  out  into  the  highways  and  the 
hedges,  and  force  them  to  come  in?  "  says  she. 


The  Blacksmith's  Conversion.  347 

"  Whether  they  want  to  or  not  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Exactly,"  says  she ;  "  their  not  wanting  to  come  into  the 
fold  shows  the  state  of  wickedness  into  which  they  have 
fallen." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  I  am  wicked  ?  "  says  I. 

She  looked  at  me  a  long  time,  as  if  the  idea  were  new  to  her. 
She  had  been  so  eager  in  raking  up  sinners,  that  it  seemed  to 
hurt  her  feelings  to  think  that  any  human  being  she  met 
wasn't  on  the  high  road  to — well,  what's  its  name  ? 

"  That  feather,"  says  she,  "  isn't  a  mark  of  regeneration." 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  but  it  is  the  badge  of  a  patriotic  idea." 

The  creature  didn't  take  in  this  delicate  political  hint.  In 
fact,  anything  fine  or  keen  is  sure  to  puzzle  your  woman  of 
one  idea. 

"  Where  do  you  go  to  meeting  ?  "  says  she,  as  abrupt  as  a 
cracked  stick. 

"  Where  my  father  did,  generally,"  says  I. 

She  looked  at  me  queerly  from  under  her  sugar-scoop. 

"  Haven't  backslid,  nor  nothing ;  because,  if  you  have,  re 
member,  before  it  is  too  late,  that  the  last  state  of  a  backslid 
ing  sinner  is  worse  than  the  first." 


LXXXVI. 

THE  BLACKSMITH'S  CONVERSION. 

jEFORE  I  could  answer  that  audacious  woman,  a  man 
came  along  with  green  spectacles  on  his  eyes,  and  a 
broad  straw  hat  on  his  head. 
"  What,  sister,  hard  at  work  ?  got  hold  of  a  case,  I  reckon ; 
but  press  forward  to  the  mark  of  the  prize." 

"  Oh,  brother,"  says  Sugar-scoop,  "  can't  you  stop  a  moment, 
and  sow  a  morsel  of  seed  on  this  barren  rock.  This  is  a 
precious  sheep." 


348  The  Blacksmith's  Conversion. 

"  Lamb,  if  you  please,"  says  I,  quickly. 

"  No,"  says  she,  as  smooth  as  oil,  but  no  doubt  boiling  over 
with  inward  spite,  "  I  have  eyes,  and  can  see.  Sheep  is  the 
word.  She  is  a  precious  sheep  that,  perchance,  has  once  been 
in  the  fold,  but  is  wandering  far  away  from  the  straight  and 
narrow  path." 

"  A  backslider,"  says  he,  eying  my  face  over  his  spectacles. 

"  Hardened,"- says  she. 

"  Take  her  to  the  anxious-seat.  Brother  Blank  is  just  the 
man  for  her  case.  You've  heard  of  Brother  Blank,  just  from 
the  West,  and  burning  with  zeal.  Heard  of  the  way  he  con 
verted  a  blacksmith  out  there — a  great,  stout,  burly,  unregen- 
erated  fellow.  Why,  compared  to  him,  this  poor,  sinful  creat 
ure  is  just  nothing.  That  was  a  mighty  work.  What,  you 
never  heard  of  it  ?  Well,  I  was  there,  and  heard  all  about  it 
on  the  spot. 

"  You  see,  Brother  Blank,  who  belongs  to  the  Methodist 
wing  of  this  camp-meeting,  was  sent  out  by  the  conference  to  a 
sparse  Western  district,  where  the  meeting-houses  were  a  good 
way  apart,  and  there  was  any  amount  of  horseback  riding  to 
be  done.  On  the  cross-roads,  near  one  of  the  stations,  there 
was  a  blacksmith  shop,  where  a  great,  two-fisted,  tough  old  sin 
ner  was  blowing  up  red-hot  coals  into  red-hot  flames,  morning 
and  night,  which  ought  to  have  reminded  him  of  the  eternal 
fires  which  threatened  him,  but  only  kindled  his  wicked  soul 
into  fierce  rebellion  against  God. 

<f  Now  this  fellow  had  an  awful  spite  against  the  ministers, 
and  never  let  a  new  one  pass  his  shop,  without  going  out  with 
his  leather  apron  on,  and  a  hammer  in  his  hand,  to  scare  the 
pious  soul  half  to  death  with  abuse,  if  nothing  worse.  When 
Brother  Blank  came  on  the  district,  he  had  to  ride  by  the  four 
corners  like  the  "rest ;  but  he  was  a  brave  soldier  of  the  Cross, 
and  rode  a  first-rate  horse,  besides .  being  a  tall,  powerful  man  in 
body  as  well  as  in  spirit.  I  rather  think  he  had  heard  of  the 
blacksmith,  but  that  made  no  difference  to  him,  he  neither 


The  Blacksmith's  Conversion.  349 

rode  faster  nor  slower  when  he  came  in  sight  of  the  shop,  but 
looked  straight  ahead,  and  trusted  in  the  Lord. 

"  The  moment  Brother  Blank  came  in  sight,  that  miserable 
heathen  brought  his  hammer  down  on  the  anvil  with  a  crash, 
flung  it  across  the  shop,  and  went  out  with  his  fists  clinched, 
his  great  bony  chest  bare,  and  his  eyes  blazing  like  sin. 

"  f  Hallo  !  '  says  he,  standing  right  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"  «  Hallo ! ' 

"  Brother  Blank  drew  up  his  horse,  and  says  he : 

"  *  What's  wanting,  my  friend  ?  ' 

"'I  want  you  to  just  tumble  down  from  that  saddle,  and 
pay  toll,'  says  the  old  sinner.  '  No  minister  passes  this  cor 
ner  without  stopping  to  take  a  thrashing  from  these.' 

Here  the  blacksmith  held  up  two  clinched  fists,  hard  and 
black  as  sledge-hammers. 

"  *  No  nonsense ;  but  get  off1,  I  say,'  he  bellowed  out. 

"  Brother  Blank  had  a  heavy  whip  in  his  hand,  with  a  short 
plump  lash,  which  he  began  to  play  with. 

"  Get  down,  I  say  !  " 

"  Brother  Blank  got  down  and  laid  the  bridle  on  the  neck 
of  his  horse. 

"  '  Now  step  out  here  and  take  it  like  a  man,'  says  the  black 
smith.  *  The  last  two  ministers  were  such  puny  fellers,  there 
was  no  fun  in  thrashing  them  ;  but  you're  something  worth 
while.  Stand  out,  I  say.' 

"  While  he  was  talking,  the  fire-blowing  wretch  rolled  up 
his  red  flannel  shirt-sleeves  to  the  elbow,  and  went  at  Brother 
Blank  with  both  fists. 

"  Now,  sisters,  Brother  Blank  is  a  true  Christian — meek  as 
a  lamb  in  prayer  and  persuasion,  but  the  sight  of  that  audacious 
old  sinner  riled  up  the  natural  man  in  him  awfully.  He 
stepped  back.  His  right  arm  swung  out,  and  that  whip-lash 
curled  round  the  fellow's  bronzed  neck  like  a  garter  snake. 
Again  and  again  the  lash  fell,  now  across  the  red  face,  now 
across  the  naked  arms,  but  generally  left  great  red  welts,  like 
the  bars  of  a  fiery  gridiron,  across  his  chest. 


3  So  The  BlacksmitJi  s  Conversion. 

"  Blind  with  the  blows,  and  crazy  with  rage,  the  fellow 
struck  out  fiercely,  but  the  lash  stung  him  at  every  point,  and  at 
last  he  was  glad  to  yell  for  quarters.  Then  it  was  that  Brother 
Blank  remembered  that  his  mission  was  to  convert  sinners. 

"  £  Down  upon  your  knees,'  says  he,  pointing  to  the  dusty 
.road  with  his  whip — '  down  upon  your  knees,  and  pray  the 
Lord  to  forgive  your  sins.' 

"  Down  the  fellow  went,  plump  on  his  two  knees,  and  down 
Brother  Blank  went  beside  him  right  in  the  dust  of  the  street ; 
and  the  way  he  wrestled  for  that  blacksmith's  soul  was  a  lesson 
to  all  faltering  Christians. 

"  '  Lift  those  blood-shot  eyes  to  Heaven  and  pray,'  says  he, 
and  his  voice  was  tender  with  compassion. 

"  '  I  won't.     Pray  for  me,'  says  the  sinner. 

"  He  did  pray.  All  the  old  Adam  had  left  Brother  Blank's 
soul  when  he  laid  down  that  whip.  It  was  flooded  now  with 
the  milk  of  human  kindness.  In  a  voice,  strong  as  his  right 
arm  and  clear  as  his , conscience,  he  poured  forth  a  petition  to 
Heaven,  so  loud,  so  powerful,  so  full  of  Christian  force,  that 
the  blacksmith  began  to  tremble  on  his  knees,  the  two  hands 
that  had  been  clenched  like  sledge-hammers  clasped  themselves, 
till  the  palms  met  and  were  uplifted  to  Heaven  as  a  child 
pleads  with  its  mother. 

"  By  and  by  another  voice — hoarse,  deep,  and  earnest — 
joined  with  the  prayer  of  Brother  Blank.  All  that  it  said 
was,  '  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ; '  but  that  was  enough, 
for  there  was  that  stout  old  reprobate  with  his  face  to  the 
earth,  his  broad  chest  swelling  with  repentance,  and  great  tears 
making  furrows  through  the  cinders  and  ashes  on  his  cheeks, 
penitent  as  a  child,  and  meek  as  a  spring  lamb. 

"  When  Brother  Blank  saw  this,  his  feelings  came  forth  in  a 
grateful  shout,  tears  leaped  down  his  own  cheeks,  and  in  one 
voice  these  two  men  thanked  God  for  the  soul  that  had  been 
saved." 

When  the  man  with  green  spectacles  had  finished  his  story, 
he  took  out  a  silk  handkerchief  from  the  crown  of  his  hat  and 


The  Blacksmith's  Conversion.  351 

wiped  his  own  eyes;  then  turning  to  the  Sugar-scoop,  says 
he: 

"  Let  this  encourage  you  to  persevere  to  the  end,  for  f  while 
the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn,  the  vilest  sinner  may  return.'  If 
this  person  is  hardened  in  the  perversity  of  a  depraved  nature, 
think  of  the  blacksmith,  and  do  not  despair." 

"  Did  that  heathen  blacksmith  hold  out  ? "  says  I,  so  in 
terested  in  the  cindery  wretch  that  I  passed  over  his  comments 
about  my  perversity. 

"  Hold  out !  "  says  he  ;  (( I  saw  him  at  a  camp-meeting  three 
years  after,  and  heard  him  tell  the  story  with  his  own  lips. 
"Brother  Blank  himself  was  sitting  on  the  speaker's  stand,  and 
the  blacksmith  pointed  him  out  to  the  people,  and  called  on 
him  to  say  if  it  was  not  his  prayers  that  had  snatched  him  as 
a  brand  from  the  burning. 

"  Brother  Blank  got  up  and  walked  with  a  lazy  motion  down 
the  platform.  Putting  both  hands  behind  him  he  smiled  be 
nignly  down  on  the  agitated  face  of  his  old  enemy.  Then  he 
looked  around  on  the  congregation,  and  spoke  : 

" c  Yes,'  says  he,  '  I  really  do  believe  that  I  was  the  humble 
instrument  of  mauling  some  grace  into  that  precious  brother's 
soul.' 

"  Sisters,  that  was  a  glorious  moment  for  Brother  Blank ; 
think  of  it — a  human  soul  turned  heavenward  in  the  midst  of 
its  wrath ;  persevere  with  this  one.  Leave  her  not  till  she  is 
brought  to  the  anxious-seat,  and  so  by  regeneration  to  member 
ship  with  the  church." 

"  But  I  am  a  Church  member,"  says  I. 

"  A  Church  member  ?  "  says  the  man  with  spectacles. 

«  Certainly,"  says  I. 

<{  In  good  standing?  "  says  the  woman,  dropping  her  under- 

HP. 

"  A  missionary  from  one  of  the  first  societies  in  the  world," 
says  I,  with  becoming  dignity. 

The  woman  with  the  sugar-scoop  bonnet  looked  at  the  man 
with  spectacles,  and  the  man  with  spectacles  looked  at  the 


352  That  Ovation  of  Fire. 

woman  with  the  sugar- scoop  bonnet.  Before  they  could  begin 
again  I  bowed  my  head  with  a  lofty  and  dignified  air,  and 
walked  away ;  which,  I  take  it,  was  something  of  a  rebuke  to 
people  whose  religious  zeal  runs  ahead  of  their  good  breeding. 

I  have  left  that  camp-ground  and  descended  a  hundred  or 
two  feet  nearer  the  earth  again,  without  feeling  the  worse  or 
very  much  the  better  for  it.  The  path  of  duty  is  sometimes 
awful  steep.  T  found  this  precipitous  to  a  wonderful  extent. 
I  really  think  nothing  but  the  saving  grace  of  church-member 
ship  kept  me  from  the  anxious-seat ;  but  the  opportunities  of 
a  new  birth  are  not  unlimited,  and  when  one  is  folded  and 
tethered  among  the  lambs,  there  is  a  little  awkwardness  when 
you  are  exhorted  to  have  it  all  done  over  again  by  a  new  min 
ister  and  another  church.  Fortified  with  a  certificate  of  church 
membership,  I  passed  through  the  whirlwind  and  storm  of  this 
camp-meeting,  with  that  graceful  dignity  which  has  won  the 
high  post  you  have  kindly  imposed  on  me. 

True,  sisters,  the  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  me  was 
long,  strong,  and  persistent.  A  fierce  raid  was  instituted 
against  my  back  hair  and  the  soft  puffings  of  my  frizzes  in 
front.  My  white  hat  was  a  terrible  source  of  trouble  to  those 
who  want  regeneration  in  nothing  but  religion;  and  the 
feather  seemed  to  get  more  notice  than  the  preaching  did 
wherever  I  happened  to  take  it. 


LXXXYIT. 

THAT    OVATION   OF   FIKE. 


JTSTERS  : — I  give  you  this  little  dash  of  camp-meeting, 
because  I  wish  to  level  myself  gradually  and  grace 
fully  down  to    the    gay  sinfulness  of    Long   Branch 
again,  where  the  salt  air  is  revivifying,  and  our  return  is  a 


That  Ovation  of  Fire.  353 

source  of  complimentary  jubilation  at  this  no-end  of  a  hotel. 
We  came  here  in  the  ten  o'clock  boat — that  floating  mansion- 
house,  which  Mr.  James  Fisk  left  as  a  memorial  of  the  public 
good  a  splendid  sinner  can  do  when  he  is  active  and  oriental 
in  his  taste. 

I  am  used  to  these  things  now ;  but  it  was  gratifying  as  we 
drove  up  in  Dempster's  carriage  from  the  railway  to  hear  a 
glorious  burst  of  music  swell  out  from  a  round  summer-house 
on  the  lawn.  A  serenade  of  that  kind  was  what  I  had  not  ex 
pected,  and  my  heart  swelled  with  not  unworthy  triumph 
when  I  listened.  The  moment  that  crowd  of  musicians  saw 
my  white  feather,  they  struck  up  "  Lo,  the  Conquering  Hero 
comes,"  with  a  soft  and  touchingly  subdued  sweetness,  which 
threw  an  exquisite  femininity  into  the  air,  and  plainly  marked 
out  its  object. 

Feeling  this,  I  bowed  a  graceful  recognition  to  those  superior 
performers,  who  answered  with  a  prolonged  blast  from  the 
most  curlecued  of  the  long  toot-horns  as  our  carriage  swept 
down  the  curving  road  that  forms  a  horse-shoe — just  a  little 
broad  at  the  heel — in  front  of  Messrs.  Leland's  hotel. 

Feeling  that  many  admiring  eyes  were  upon  me,  I  stepped 
with  dignity  from  the  carriage,  and  walked  with  a  downcast 
look,  which  I  did  my  best  to  make  unconscious,  through  the 
gay  crowd  that  had  gathered  in  front  of  that  long  portico,  only 
just,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  me  as  I  Went  in. 

Sisters,  I  had  compassion  on  these  people,  and  walked  with 
slow  gracefulness  through  their  midst,  determined  to  give  even 
the  humblest  a  chance  to  see  how  true  genius  can  deport  itself 
when  ovations  of  music  and  respectful  admiration  recognize  its 
greatness. 

There  was  a  great  publisher  present  when  we  got  back  to  the 
hotel.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  listened  to  the  music  of  that  band 
when  it  gave  me  this  harmonious  reception,  and  I  hope  he  in 
directly  felt  the  compliment  reverberate  back  on  himself.  It 
was  an  honor  he  deserved  to  share  with  me,  or  any  other  high 
bred,  intellectual  person  to  whom  he  had  opened  a  golden  path- 


354  That  Ovation  of  Fire. 

# 

way  to  the  Temple  of  Fame  through  his  numerous  art  jour 
nals. 

I  had  an  idea  of  the  gentleman  in  my  mind,  and  tried  to 
single  him  out  from  the  crowd  of  persons  standing  in  silent 
homage  on  the  balcony  as  I  passed  into  the  hotel,  but  I  think 
he  was  not  there. 

Before  the  day  was  out,  I  could  give  a  good  guess  at  the 
reason  why  he  did  not  appear  to  claim  the  honor  of  my  ac 
quaintance.  He  was  meditating  a  delicate  little  surprise  for 
me — one  of  those  poetic  fancies  that  take  root  only  in  highly 
artistic  minds.  By  and  by  you  will  hear  what  it  was. 

In  Washington,  and  at  the  Grand  Duke's  reception  at  Sandy 
Hook — why  that  strip  of  salt  water,  which  lets  ships  in  and 
out  from  New  York  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  is  called  a  hook,  I 
cannot  make  out,  for  the  life  of  me ;  and  as  for  its  being  sandy 
— well,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  deep,  salt  water,  and  nothing  else. 
But,  as  I  was  a-saying,  in  Washington,  and  at  Sandy  Hook, 
the  largest  guns  of  the  nation  did  me  homage.  Here  1  am  re 
ceived  with  bursts  of  music  from  the  middle  of  a  home-lot  be 
longing  to  the  hotel ;  but  this  evening  the  crowning  glory  of 
an  ovation  was  given  me  by  the  great  publisher,  who,  unseen, 
and  with  the  most  delicate  attention,  startled  me  into  a  wild 
enthusiasm  of  gratitude. 

By  guns  on  the  water,  by  guns  on  shore,  and  by  enchanting 
strains  of  music,  my  appearance  in  society  has  been  heralded. 
Now  the  cap-sheaf  has  been  placed  on  all  these  honors  by  a  com 
pliment  of  fire  combined  with  the  most  exhilarating  music.  On 
Saturday  nights,  every  hotel  along  the  beach  is  crowded  from 
ground-floor  to  gable,  and  gay  as  a  spring  morning.  Then  the 
husbands  and  brothers  and  beaux  come  down  from  New  York, 
till  all  the  trains  run  over  with  masculine  humanity.  When  the 
cars  come  in,  it  really  is  a  sight  to  behold.  Out  from  a  long 
train  of  cars  rushes  a  swarm  of  men,  with  here  and  there  a 
feminine  sprinkling,  carrying  carpet-bags,  satchels,  umbrellas, 
and  little  baskets  of  fruit.  Then  they  cluster  in  a  thick,  black 
cloud  around  the  depot,  like  bees  swarming  from  their  hives. 


That  Ovation  of  Fire.  355 

The  streets  all  around  are  choked  up  with  carriages,  hacks, 
omnibuses,  wagons,  and  all  sorts  of  wheeled  things,  in  which 
drivers  sit,  on  the  sharp  watch,  and  ladies  and  girls  wait  for 
their  men  folks  to  get  in  and  be  drove  away.  I  beg  pardon — 
driven  away. 

On  Saturday  night,  every  female  seems  to  own  a  mate  of 
some  kind,  and  be  on  the  watch  for  him.  Then  the  engines 
give  a  snarl,  and  carriages  make  a  grand  start  and  go  off  in  a 
line,  stringing  down  Ocean  Avenue  a  mile  or  so,  and  leaving 
clouds  of  dust  rolling  along  the  beach,  each  driver  going  it  as 
if  he  were  crazy  to  leave  all  the  other  fellows  behind. 

Well,  this  fills  the  whole  Branch  with  delightful  confusion. 
The  ladies  put  on  their  most  scrumptious  dresses,  and  the  mas 
culines  blaze  in  red  and  blue  and  green  neckties  that  almost  set 
you  on  fire. 

Everybody  dances  on  Saturday  night.  Streams  of  music  pour 
upon  you  in  cataracts  if  you  walk  up  the  beach  after  dark. 
All  the  doors  and  windows  are  open,  and  you  feel  dizzy  with 
the  idea  that  all  creation  has  got  into  one  grand  whirl.  This  is 
Saturday  night  at  Long  Branch,  as  a  general  thing ;  but  the 
particular  Saturday  night  after  we  came  from  the  camp-meeting, 
was  the  beatinest  thing  of  all.  Early  in  the  evening  the  people 
seemed  to  flock  in  crowds  to  this  hotel.  They  came  afoot ;  they 
came  in  carriages ;  they  came  by  the  omnibuses,  load  after  load. 
Cousin  E.  E .  was  astonished,  and  couldn't  understand  it. 
"  Never,"  says  she,  "  have  I  seen  such  a  crowd  before.  What 
can  it  mean  ?  " 

I  said  nothing,  but  kept  a  deep  and  satisfied  thinking. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  Hadn't  I  just  arrived?  Hadn't  the  news 
spread  ?  Was  not  this  a  popular  uprising — a  great  wave  of 
homage  to  the  worth  and  genius  of  a  woman  whom  I  did  not 
care  to  mention?  These  thoughts  were  in  my  mind  when  a 
great  storm  of  music  broke  out  from  that  summer-house  in  the 
front  home  lot.  Then  whiz  went  a  fiery  snake,  clear  up  into 
the  sky,  where  it  bent  its  head,  opened  its  mouth,  and  poured 
a  stream  of  burning  stars  down  over  the  people. 


356  That  Ovation  of  Fire. 

Mercy,  what  a  great  crowd  those  falling  stars  lighted  up ! 
The  street  in  front  of  the  hotel  was  black  with  people.  The 
long,  long  stoop  was  swarming  with  them — the  ladies  all  in 
scrumptious  dresses ;  the  gentlemen  with  red  and  blue  ribbons 
on  their  hats,  and  the  same  colors  glowing  at  their  throats. 
This  I  saw  by  the  light  of  the  gas-globes  and  of  those  shooting 
stars  that  dropped  like  great  jewels  through  the  still  air.  The 
sight  of  that  fiery  snake  frightened  me ;  I  jumped  like  a  pea 
on  a  hot  shovel,  and  gave  a  little  scream. 

"What  does  it  mean?  What  temptatious  snake  is  it?" 
says  I,  a-trembling  all  over. 

<f  It's  a  rocket,"  says  E.  E. ;  "a  publishing  gentleman  is 
going  to  compliment  the  ladies  ^with  a  display  of  fireworks." 

"  The  ladies !  "  thought  I,  in.  silent  irony.  There  is  but  one 
lady  to  whom  so  noble  a  compliment  can  be  paid,  and  that 
lady — is — but  no  matter ! 

I  did  not  say  this  in  words.  Let  E.  E.  have  her  vanities  and 
her  little  delusions.  She  does  assume  a  few  airs  on  account  of 
our  relationship,  but  I  seldom  notice  it — let  her  make  her  little 
mark  in  society.  It  pleases  her,  and  does  not  hurt  me.  Only, 
an  ovation  like  this — to  think  she,  or  any  one  else,  could  share 
that  with  me,  is  asking  a  little  too  much. 

Out  went  another  snake,  curling  along  the  grass,  shooting 
straight  up,  with  a  venomous  blue  light  in  its  folds  that  was 
enough  to  frighten  one;  but  it  sort  of  melted  away  in  sparks, 
and  then  a  great  wheel  of  fire — crimson,  blue,  green,  yellow, 
rainbowish  in  every  line  and  spoke — began  to  whirl  round  and 
round  at  the  other  end  of  the  home  lot,  sending  out  great 
curving  plumes  of  sparks,  and  twisting  them  into  ten  thousand 
rainbows,  all  winding,  whirling,  and  shooting  fire  like  a  great 
wheel  of  jewels  and  revolving  stars. 

Another  broke  out,  and  began  to  whirl  close  to  one  of  the 
mammoth  flower-vases,  raining  light  down  upon  it,  till  the  great 
white  vase  shone  like  snow,  and  all  the  flowers  it  held  were 
frosted  over  with  a  beautiful  light. 

Then  another  wheel — another  and  another — kindled  and  burst 


That  Ovation  of  Fire.  357 

out,  sending  torrents  of  fire  every  which  way,  changing,  flash 
ing,  shooting  out  gorgeous  flames  of  color,  till  the  grass  was  all 
aglow  with  light,  and  flashed  under  the  vivid  rain  "of  sparks 
like  a  meadow  full  of  lightning-bugs. 

Now  the  whole  front  of  the  hotel  was  blazing  with  wheels, 
and  the  air  was  alive  with  fiery  serpents  that  spit  forth  a  storm 
of  great  jewels  before  they  died.  Between  the  wheels,  tall 
thickets  of  fire  started  up,  and  rose  into  quivering  trees,  and 
shot  golden  fruit  of  many  colors  into  the  air,  lighting  up  the 
crowd  like  ten  thousand  gorgeous  lamps  tossed  upward  and 
broken  as  they  fell. 

All  this  time  the  music  was  swelling  through  the  fiery  dis 
play,  and  the  crowd  clapped  hands,  as  if  enough  honor  could 
not  be  done  to  the  occasion.  My  heart  swelled — I  felt  this 
homage  intended  by  this  display,  and  the  wild  sympathy  of  the 
crowd  filled  me  with  a  tumult  of  grateful  feelings. 

I  arose,  and,  with  one  hand  on  my  heart,  bowed  profoundly 
every  time  the  crowd  clapped  its  multitudinous  hands.  It  was 
a  glorious  moment.  I  longed  to  meet  the  publisher  face  to 
face,  and  tell  him  how  profoundly  his  generosity  had  touched 
my  soul ;  but,  with  that  modesty  which  ever  accompanies  true 
merit,  he  kept  in  the  background,  and  hid  away  from  the  thanks 
my  soul  was  panting  to  give. 

Oh,  Sisters,  I  wish  you  had  been  here  in  a  body  to  see  how 
this  great  white  house — a  half  a  mile  or  so  long — was  turned 
into  a  snow-white  palace  by  the  flood  of  fire  in  front  of  it. 
Then  the  sea — the  great,  heaving  sea — on  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  was  red  as  blood,  and  bright  as  gold,  when  the  flames 
shot  highest.  I  tell  you,  the  golden  gates  of  the  New  Jerusa 
lem  could  not  have  been  more  beautifully  luminous. 

Earth,  sea,  and  air  were  kindled  with  light,  and  full  of  shoot 
ing-stars  for  a  whole  hour.  Then,  as  the  fires  began  to  wane, 
and  the  jewels  to  melt,  two  great,  tall  balloons,  striped  red, 
white,  and  blue,  were  illuminated,  and  sent  sailing  up  and  up 
in  the  air,  each  with  a  trail  of  shooting-stars  dropping  along  its 
path.  Up  and  up,  higher  and  higher,  the  balloons  rose,  with 


358  That  Ovation  of  Fire. 

a  slow,  graceful  movement,  and  drifted  away  to  sea — away, 
away,  away — till  they  shone  like  little  stars,  and  went  out  in 
the  distance. 

Then  a  great  shout  went  up  from  the  pleased  multitude, 
which  increased  to  frenzy  when  I  once  more  showed  myself. 

My  white  hat  was  on ;  the  feather  floated  out  in  the  air  like 
a  banner.  In  my  hand  I  held  a  fan.  In  the  fervor  of  my 
emotion  I  pressed  it  against  my  bosom.  The  people  saw  it,  and 
the  storm  of  applause  that  burst  from  them  fairly  took  me  off  my 
feet.  Emotion  overcame  me ;  I  retired  from  that  long  stoop. 

Cousin  E.  E.  followed  me.  She  hasn't  been  herself  since  the 
camp-meeting ;  and  when  I  asked  her  if  it  was  not  a  beautiful 
ovation,  she  shook  her  head  and  answered,  that  all  flesh  was 
grass,  which  I  don't  believe  any  more  than  I  believe  that  grass 
is  flesh,  which  I  know  is  not  the  fact,  each  being  itself  inde 
pendent  grass  and  independent  flesh. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  call  it  grass,  or  anything  you  please,  but 
wasn't  the  whole  thing  perfectly  gorgeous." 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  it  was  a  pretty  compliment  to  -the  ladies 
of  the  hotel." 

Sisters,  that  jealous,  provoking  woman  said  "  ladies  of  the 
hotel,"  not  <f  the  lady  of  the  hotel."  She  is  an  aggravating 
creature,  sometimes ;  I  do  believe  she  is  jealous  of  the  homage 
which  is  lavished  on  your  missionary.  At  any  rate  speeches 
like  this  look  like  it.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 

I  said  nothing.  A  tart  reply  trembled  on  my  tongue,  but 
the  atmosphere  of  that  camp-meeting  still  clung  to  me,  and  I 
forbore  to  rebuke  her. 

Sisters,  I  was  too  lenient ;  somehow  or  other  E.  E.  has 
spread  her  selfish  idea  through  this  hotel.  The  ladies  were 
all  carried  away  by  the  fireworks — no,  excuse  me,  that  would 
be  dangerous  to  such  as  had  tindery  tempers,  but  they  could 
talk  of  nothing  else,  and  made  a  great  fuss  about  the  compli 
ment  paid  to  them.  To  them — as  if  any  man  who  has  an  ap 
preciative  soul  would  think  of  diffusing  a  compliment  among  a 
crowd  of  ten  thousand  people  ;  but  the  vanity  and  presumption 


Let  Him  Go.  359 

of  some  females  are  just  disgusting.  But  for  the  secret  con 
sciousness  that  no  one  could  have  been  intended  but  myself, 
their  conceit  would  provoke  me.  As  it  is,  let  them  have  their 
conceity  illusions.  Others  may  think  what  they  please,  but  I 
have  an  inner  consciousness  that  is  satisfaction  enough. 


LET   HIM   GO. 

|EAR  SISTERS: — You  know,  or  can  guess,  at  the 
anxious  state  of  mind  in  which  a  sensitive  female- 
woman  must  have  found  her  experiences  since  the 
great  Grand  Duke  left  this  country.  I  am  told  that  the  Im 
perial  Court  of  Russia  is  hard  to  please  in  the  way  of  marrying 
its  sons — that  nobility  is  not  considered  enough,  and  nothing 
but  the  child  of  an  emperor  or  of  a  king  will  satisfy  the  pride 
of  Czar  Alexander. 

But  emperors  are  not  to  be  found,  like  huckleberries,  in  the 
woods,  and  those  among  them  that  have  lots  and  lots  of  chil 
dren  can't  always  find  mates  ready  cut-out  and  made-up  for  all 
of  them  in  the  very  uppermost  crust  of  all  the  world. 

When  emperors  are  scarce,  and  imperial  children  plentiful, 
is  it  strange  that  some  of  them  should  be  sent  to  a  free  country, 
where  the  highest  royalty  in  all  the  world  is  to  be  found  wait 
ing  for  orders. 

Republics  have  but  one  kingly  order,  that  of  individual 
genius,  which  ranks  above  kings  all  over  the  world,  and  is  as 
pired  to  by  queens,  whenever  a  queen  is  gifted  with  superior 
ambition,  as  little  Victoria  Guelph  was  when  she  wrote  her 
book  of  travels,  and  the  life  of  her  first-class  husband. 

That  which  a  queen  hankers  after,  the  son  of  an  emperor  may 
be  glad  to  mate  himself  with.  Is  it  wonderful,  then,  that  a 


360  Let  Him  Go. 

Grand  Duke  of  all  the  Russias  should  aspire  to  the  first  femi 
nine  genius  of  a  free  land,  and  to  a  certain  modest  extent  re 
ceive  encouragement  from  her? 

A  union  between  an  archduke  and  the  first  lady  writer  of 
this  country — excuse  me,  but  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction — 
was  a  consummation  that  you  as  a  Society  ought  to  expect,  and 
this  nation,  in  its  administrative  capacity,  ought  to  have  in 
sisted  upon.  If  an  aspiring  and  unprotected  female  cannot  re 
ceive  the  support  of  her  own  Government,  where  can  she  go 
for  it. 

Sisters,  this  union  between  -Sprucehill  and  Russia  is  a  great 
national  question,  which  ought  to  have  agitated  this  country 
from  the  shores  of  the  two  oceans,  the  Mississppi  and  Rocky 
Mountains  inclusive. 

There  has  been  considerable  of  an  internal  rumbling  sort  of 
a  convulsion,  earthquaky  and  threatening,  in  various  sections, 
which  ought  to  have  given  timely  warning  of  what  the  true 
national  feeling  was ;  but  somehow  Russia  don't  seem  to  un 
derstand  it,  and  I'm  beginning  to  think  that  there  is  secret 
treason  here  at  home — deep,  double-dyed  treason — of  which 
your  missionary  is  the  obj  ect. 

It  is  a  shameful  fact  that  the  Government  has  taken  no  sort 
of  interest  in  an  engagement  which  would  have  linked  the  two 
great  social  centres  of  Russia  and  Sprucehill  in  a  close  and  lov 
ing  union. 

From  the  day  my  Alexis  had  an  interview  with  President 
Grant  my  heart-history  has  been  allowed  to  drag  like  a  lazy 
funeral  train.  Before,  all  was  bright  and  luminous,  with 
beautiful  aspirations ;  but  from  .that  time  suspense  has  coiled 
around  me,  hope  has  flared  up,  blinked,  and  almost  died  out. 
I  did  not  understand  it  then.  It  seemed  to  me  that  fickleness 
was  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Grand  Duke. 

But  I  did  him  a  cruel  injustice.  If  our  two  hearts  and  des 
tinies  are  severed,  it  has  been  by  the  underground  machina 
tions  of  this  Administration.  General  Grant  saw  what  was 
going  on,  and  has  cruelly  circumvented  two  young  and  unso- 


Let  Him  Go. 


36i 


phisfcicated  hearts  that  were  knitting  together,  like  ivy  round 
an  oak  sapling. 

I  am  determined  on  -it.  The  country  shall  hear  of  my 
wrongs.  Spruceliffl  shall  have  redress  for  the  insult  put  upon 
her  favorite  daughter.  In  all  that  General  Grant  has  done-  in 
the  way  of  omission,  nothing  approaches  the  inactivity  which 
has  wrung  my  heart,  as  wet  blankets  are  twisted  in  the  strong 
hands  of  a  washerwoman. 

He  has  not  written  me  a  line.     His  letters  must  have  been 
^interrupted.       Evil   machinations  have  been  at  work.       The 
Government    detectives    are    everywhere    scattering    slanders 
and  distrust.      I  shouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  they  have  been  to 
our  old  homestead  on  Sprucehill,  mousing  among  church  regis 
ters,  and    interviewing   family   physicians.     Well,    let    them. 
Since  I  learned  to  write,  some  figures  have  been  changed  in 
the  old  Family  Bible,  and,  thank  goodness !    old  Doctor  Perry 
is  dead.     The  keenest  detective  won't  find  much  difference  be 
tween  1830  and  1850.     It  only  requires  that  the  curve  of  the 
three  should  be  rubbed  out,  and  a  dash  sharpened  to  a  point 
added.     If  they  look  for  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty  there, 
I  can  tell  them  it  isn't  to  be  found.     Let  them  search— that's 
all! 

_  This  was  my  state  of  mind  three  days  ago.     Now  I  am  re 
vivified    with    extra  animation.       Hope  has  perched    on   my 
white  hat  and  sits  there  waving  its  feather  like  a  pennant. 
I  am  glad  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that  I  didn't  follow 
duke  across  the  ocean.     After  all  a  duke  is  only  a  man 
hard  to  catch  and  expensive  to  cage.     Why  should  we  trouble 
ourselves  about  princes  and  dukes  and  lords,  when  we  have 
the  most  genuine  of  all  manly  articles  right  under  our  feet, 
s  are  scarce  and  hard  to  scare  up,  but  there  are  as  good 
nsh   in   the   sea   as  ever   came  out  of  it.     That's  my  motto 
to-day. 

16 


362  Done  Up  in  a  Hurry. 


LXXXIX. 

DONE    U£  IN   A   HURRY. 

IISTERS: — the  atmosphere  of  Long  Branch  is  propiti 
ous,  not  to  say  exhilarating,  for  close  by  this  half-mile 
of  a  hotel  is  another,  crowded  full  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  in  which  we  can  hear  fiddling  and  dancing  every  night  of 
the  week.  The  hotels  at  watering-places  are  celebrated  for 
several  things,  particularly  low  ceilings,  widows,  youngish 
ladies,  and  girls  like  our  Cecilia,  who  wonder  every  day  of 
their  lives  how  their  mothers  ever  got  along  decently  till  they 
were  born  to  tell  them  how. 

Well,  the  most  enterprising  of  these  hotel  accompaniments 
are  the  widows.  Their  superior  advantages  of  experience  is  j  ust 
overpowering,  and  these  advantages  are  used  with  unscrupulous 
freedom.  I  say  this  with  feeling,  being  one  of  the  class  that 
suffers  from  such  unwarrantable  competition. 

A  widow  was  in  the-  hotel  I  have  spoken  of.  Yes,  what 
might  be  called  two  widows  rolled  into  one,  for  she  had  put 
two  husbands  into  their  little  beds,  and  tucked  in  the  sods 
comfortably  before  she  came  to  Long  Branch  in  search  of  a 
third. 

Sisters,  she  found  him ;  her  little  traps  and  lines  and  baits 
had  been  all  out  to  no  sort  of  purpose  for  three  or  four  weeks. 
She  danced  in  the  parlor,  exhibited  all  the  lines  of  a  plumpti- 
tudinous  figure  at  the  bowling  alley,  which  is  a  place  I  never 
saw,  but  have  heard  about;  walked  on  the  beach  with  a 
Leghorn  hat  on,  curled  up  at  the  ears,  and  in  front  too,  and 
Japanese  umbrella,  brown  outside  and  yellow  in  the  interior, 
which  looked  as  if  she  had  lots  of  money  and  meant  to  put  it 
on  the  market  with  a  dash. 

There  was  a  great  deal  said  about  this  widow.  Some 
observed  that  she  was  handsome.  Some  said  she  wasn't — 
mostly  ladies.  Some  observed  how  graceful  she  was,  at  which 


Done  Up  in  a  Hurry.  363 

others  smiled  and  shook  their  heads.  One  person  persisted  in 
it  that  she  was  awful  rich — two  or  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  at  least.  Then  that  was  contradictec},  Forty  thousand 
was  more  than  any  one  could  prove  she  had.  Others  persisted 
that  her  wealth,  like  her  virtues,  was  unlimited.  In  fact, 
being  a  widow,  she  made  the  best  of  it  and  let  people  talk, 
minding  her  snares  and  traps  and  things  all  the  same. 

Last  week  a  strange  man  came  to  that  hotel.  It  was  Satur 
day  morning,  and  the  first  object  that  his  eyes  fell  upon  at 
breakfast  was  this  widow,  without  the  sign  of  a  cap,  and  with 
a  long  curl  straggling  down  to  one  shoulder,  very  fluffy  and 
enticing.  He  looked  at  the  curl ;  then  his  eyes  wandered  up 
to  the  widow's  face.  That  face  had  smiled  through  a  couple 
of  matrimonial  campaigns,  and  received  the  first  battery  of 
admiring  eyes  with  a  sweet,  downcast  look,  innocent  as  blanc 
mange.  Then  she  lifted  her  eyes  with  slow  modesty,  and 
glanced  wonderingly  at  her  admirer,  as  if  she  were  sort  of  be 
wildered  by  his  looking  so  much  that  way. 

The  stranger  did  not  smile,  but  a  light  came  over  his  face 
when  he  caught  that  childlike  glance.  Then  both  these  inno 
cent  creatures  fell  to  eating.  Then  he  happened  to  look  up 
again.  So  did  she — a  romantic  coincidence  that  sort  of  afiini- 
tized  them  to  a  great  extent,  before  anybody  saw  what  was 
going  on. 

After  breakfast  the  stranger  hunted  up  some  one  who  knew 
him  and  the  widow  also.  An  introduction  brought  the  two 
halves  of  that  pair  of  scissors  together,  and  the  blades  fitted 
beautifully.  All  they  wanted  was  the  rivet.  But  wait. 

At  twelve  o'clock  that  day  the  stranger  ventured  to  ask  a 
favor.  Would  the  widow  give  him  a  little  music  ? 

The  widow  said  she  would.  The  sweetness  of  a  whole  boil 
ing  of  maple  sugar  was  in  her  smile  as  she  sat  down  by  the 
parlor  piano,  and  sent  her  two  little  hands  fluttering  over  it 
like  a  pair  of  white  pigeons  with  love-letters  under  their 
wings. 

The  widow  flew  her  fingers ;  the  widow  looked  at  the  stran- 


364  Done  Up  in  a  Hurry. 

ger  from  under  her  eyelashes,  and  her  voice  thrilled  through 
him  till  he  began  to  think  of  magnolias  and  mocking-birds  and 
other  ornamental  things  which  soften  a  man's  feelings  down 
to  the  fluffiness  of  a  feather  bed. 

When  she  had  done  singing,  he  asked  her  to  walk  with  him 
on  the  beach.  She  gave  another  slow  lift  of  her  eyelashes,  said 
she  would,  and  ran  upstairs  after  the  Leghorn  and  the  Japanese 
umbrella,  brown  and  yellow,  with  as  many  bones  in  it  as  the 
first  April  shad. 

They  walked  the  beach  up  and  down,  she  leaning  heavier 
and  heavier  on  his  arm  at  each  turn.  Then  they  sat  clown  on 
the  sand  with  their  faces  to  the  sea,  and  held  the  umbrella  so 
as  to  shade  off  the  people  on  the  bank — they  didn't  care  for 
the  sun  a  bit — and  in  that  condition  they  sat  and  talked  and 
talked  and  talked. 

By  and  by  he  got  up  from  .the  sand.  She  lifted  her  eyes 
with  a  pitiful  look  of  helplessness.  He  reached  out  his  hand, 
and  she  rose  to  it  gracefully,  like  a  trout  to  a  fly.  The  hand 
clung  to  his  more  than  a  minute  after  she  got  up — the  sand 
was  so  uneven,  you  see.  The  stranger  bore  this  with  Christian 
fortitude,  and  really  seemed  as  if  he  rather  liked  it.  In  fact, 
he  encouraged  her  to  hold  on;  and  she  did,  with  her  sweet 
widowed  face  lifted  to  his  just  long  enough  to  set  his  heart  off 
like  a  windmill,  when  she  dropped  it  again. 

When  they  came  up  the  flight  of  wooden  steps  that  leads 
down  from  the  bank,  both  her  white  hands  were  clasped  over 
his  arm  as  loving  as  the  soft  paws  of  a  kitten,  and  he  looked 
like  a  fellow  that  had  been  out  shooting  doves,  and  had  come 
in  with  his  net  full. 

They  went  in  to  lunch,  and  ate  spring  chickens ;  then  they 
ended  off  with  silly-bubs,  which  is  a  sweet  froth  that  melts  to 
nothing  on  the  tongue — delicious,  but  not  exactly  hearty  food. 

Two  hours  after  lunch,  the  stranger  asked  the  widow  to  ride 
out  with  him;  which  she  did,  in  the  puniest  and  silkiest  of 
dresses,  and  with  a  lace  parasol,  lined  with  pink,  between  her 
and  the  sun.  This  was  one  of  her  snares,  for  she  depended  on 


Done  Up  in  a  Plurry.  365 

that  pink  lining  for  her  blushes,  having  left  them  a  good  way 
behind  her  somewhere  about  the  first  wedding. 

The  drive  was  paradisical.  They  talked,  they  smiled,  they 
said  the  loveliest  little  things  to  each  other  with  delicious 
reciprocity.  He  drove,  and  divided  his  manly  attentions  be 
tween  her  and  the  horses,  giving  her  a  generous  share,  which 
was  creditable  to  him  as  a  man. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  that  night  when  those  two  peo 
ple  went  up  to  their  neglected  couches — nothing  but  a  widow 
would  have  stood  the  shock  of  such  impropriety  among  the 
critical  of  her  sex ;  but  she  didn't  care  a  mite. 

Early  the  next  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  these  two  per 
sons  were  seen  coming  out  of  the  little  cubby -houses  under  the 
beach  in  the  queerest  sort  of  dresses — I  cannot  describe  them, 
because,  up  to  this  time,  beach  flirtations  have  been  forbidden 
subjects  with  me. 

But  they  came  out  on  the  beach,  clasped  hands,  and  walked 
right  into  the  biggest  waves  they  could  find. 

What  she  said  to  him  there  I  cannot  tell,  but  by  and  by  they 
came  back  to  the  hotel,  the  sneakiest-looking  creatures  you 
ever  set  your  two  eyes  on. 

I  don't  know  when  it  was  that  she  brought  him  to  the  point, 
but  the  widow  had  netted  him  so  close  that  he  didn't  even  try 
to  flounder. 

That  night  there  was  sacred  music  in  the  hotel  parlor,  and, 
somehow,  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  dropped  in,  with  a  white 
cravat  on,  and  waited  for  something,  looking  as  if  butter 
wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth. 

He  hadn't  been  there  long  before  the  strange  gentleman 
came  in  with  a  swallow-tailed  coat  on,  a  white  vest  and  cravat, 
with  ball-gloves  on  his  hands. 

Hanging  on  to  his  arm  was  that  widow,  in  a  long,  white 
dress,  that  streamed  after  her  in  windrows,  and  with  a  shower 
of  lace  falling  .over  her. 

The  minister  got  up,  and  opened  his  book.  The  people 
hanging  about  hushed  their  talk,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes 


Done  Up  in  a  Hurry. 
a  third  gold  ring  was  chucked  over  ^  other  ^  ^ 

down   the  widow's  finger,  and   she  walked   off  with  number 
three  as  proud  as  a  white  peacock. 

It  took  this  widow  just  two  days  and   part  of  a  night  to 
^  ^  ^^  ^  h°°ks-but'  au«   si*  ««  a 


Sisters,  there  is  a  good  deal  of  commotion  in  our  hotel  just 

Th         r  T"f         ^  **  °f  g°ing  °V6r  *°  the  other  A 

to  th?l  >  ring  ^  tha*  direCti°U  at  firat>  but-  -™ 

th  nk  it  over,  mean  to  stay  where  I  am.     It  isn't  the  house 

vtl  a   has  done  this,  but  the  bland  atmosphere  of  Long  Branch. 

hat  sort  of  thing  is  indigenous  to  the  place-and  I  mean  to 

it  thoroughly-Russia  is  welcome  to  the  Grand  Duke-  a 

hole-souled  American  is  good  enough  for  me.     Besides,  l4- 

is  an  awful  cold  place,   and   I  don't  think   I  ever  could 

bring  myself  to  eat  cabbage-soup  or  the  roe  of  a  sturgeon 

tes  if  this  sort  of  thing   lies  in  the  atmosphere,  don't 
you  think  lt  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  whole  Society  to 
come  down  here  next  summer?     A  generous  diffusion  of  mas- 
culme  energy  into  the  course  might    be  a   desirable  change 
For  my  part,  I  don't  mean  to  leave  this  place  till  frost  comes' 
3heve  this  thing  is  going  to  be  an  epidemic  at  the  Branch' 
I  when  contagions  rage  I  am  sure  to  catch  any  disease  that 
s  going.      I  have  had  the  measles  twice,  and  two  pretty  se 
vere  tugs  with  the   scarlet-fever.      In  fact,  I  was  celebrated, 
as  a  child,  for  catching  double.     One  thing  is  certain-I  never 
m  away  because  a  disease  was  catching,  and  I'm  not  going  to 
>  here.     On  the  contrary,  I  am  making  over  one  of  my 
i    alpaca  skirts  into  a  bathing-dress.     If  I   know  myself  I 
shall  fight  it  out  on  that  line,  if  it  takes  all  winter 


The  Yellow  Flag.  367 


CHAPTER    XC. 

THE  YELLOW   FLAG. 

]AR  SISTERS:— I  have  gone  and  done  it!  Now 
let  me  give  you  a  little  wholesome  advice.  It  comes 
out  of  my  superior  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  expe 
rience  of  the  human  heart.  Never  say  that  you  won't  do  a 
thing,  because  if  you  do,  just  as  sure  as  you  live  it  is  the  very 
thing  that  you  are  sure  to  plunge  into,  whether  you  want  to 
or  not.  Besides,  people  who  know  enough  to  doubt  them 
selves,  understand  that  men  and  women  are  made  up  princi 
pally  of  human  nature.  Now  human  nature  is  a  great  fraud, 
and  isn't  to  be  trusted  when  he's  found  in  the  interior  of  your 
own  heart,  or  anywhere  else. 

In  one  of  my  reports,  I  expressed  myself  as  shocked  out  of 
a  year's  growth,  when  I  heard  about  gentlemen  and  ladies  go 
ing  into  the  salt-sea  waves  together,  and  submerging  them 
selves  like  mermaids  in  the  swell  and  foam  of  the  ocean. 
I  said,  in  the  heat  and  glow  of  modest  feminine  shrinkitiveness, 
that  nothing  on  earth,  or  in  the  water,  should  induce  me  to  do 
it ;  but  circumstances  alter  cases,  and  the  capacity  of  eternal 
change  is  the  essence  of  genius,  which  is  always  making  new 
combinations  and  discarding  old  prejudices. 

I  say  it  with  reluctance,  but  truth  demands  frankness. 
Sometimes  I  am  a  little  hasty  in  my  conclusions. 

Have  I  said  enough — need  I  go  on  to  explain  that  the  result 
of  a  thing  proves  its  propriety  ? 

Now,  bathing  in  company,  in  the  abstract,  does  seem — well, 
peculiar.  I  might  add  other  words  which  at  one  time  came 
uppermost  in  my  mind;  but,  looking  toward  results,  I  feel 
constrained  to  say  nothing  on  the  social  aspect  of  multitudi 
nous  ablutions,  but  go  into  the  high  moral  question  which  liaa 
slowly  presented  itself  to  my  understanding. 

Isn't  there  a  passage  of  Scripture  somewhere  that  speaks 


368  The  Yellow  Flag. 


ftsssrjir  •  -"  -  "-  7i»i»  *•  - 

Prom  an  artistic  stand-point  then  I  reject  the  whole  subject  • 
but  as  the  meaus  of  catching  a  heart  afloat,  that  same  ±  ^ 
offers  numerous  facilities 


morning  I  went  out    into   the  veranda 


In  front  of  the  veranda,  on  the  high  bank,  was  a  pole  like 
the  hbertv-poles  we  run  up  on  almost  eve^  vil.age  g  e'en  of 
New  England.  On  that  pole  a  pale  yellow  flag  was  %fng 


bee 


The  Yellow  Flag.  369 

<(  The  yellow-fever."  I  knew  it  was  in  the  harbor,  shut  up 
there  by  the  authorities.  Had  it  escaped  through  Sandy 
Hook,  and  come  poisoning  the  waters  along  shore  ?  Now  that 
I  was  ready  for  the  first  plunge,  were  my  best  hopes  to  be 
frustrated  ?  Had  I  sat  up  all  night  sewing  red  braid  on  that 
tunic,  and  those — well,  Turkish  pantalettes,  for  nothing? 
Had  I  conquered  a  great  New  England  prejudice,  to  be  con 
quered  myself  by  careless  health  officers  ?  Why  hadn't  they 
taken  an  example  by  some  of  the  old  stock,  and  divided  the 
whole  thing  among  them  in  perquisites  ?  I  only  wish  they  had. 

Sisters,  it  was  a  keen  disappointment.  I  was  looking  at 
that  yellow  flag,  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  when  Cousin  E.  E. 
came  on  to  the  veranda. 

"Come,  Phcemie,"  says  she,  bright  as  a  May  morning, 
"  where  is  the  new  bathing-dress  ?  It  will  be  splendid  bath- 
ing!" 

I  looked  at  her,  I  looked  at  the  ocean  and  at  the  path  that 
led  down  to  the  beach,  along  which  half  a  dozen  real  nice-look 
ing  gentlemen  were  picking  their  steps  like  rabbits  toward  a 
sweet-apple  trap.  It  was  tantalizing. 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  as  contented  as  a  lamb,  "  it  will  be  lovely 
bathing  this  morning ;  I  mean  to  try  it." 

"  Try  it,"  says  I ;  "  haven't  you  read  that  yellow-fever  is  in 
the  harbor  ?  " 

tc  Well,  what  then  ?  "  says  she.     "  It  won't  hurt  us." 

"  Won't  hurt  us,"  says  I.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  poison 
getting  into  water  that  could  be  washed  out  ?  No,  if  it  is  in 
the  harbor,  some  of  it  will  drift  down  here.  Look,  you  can 
see  it  sweltering  in  the  waves  now." 

She  looked  out  on  the  ocean,  where  a  faint  yellow  tinge  rip 
pled  and  shone  with  treacherous  temptatiousness 

(f  Oh,  that  is  only  the  sunshine,"  says  she. 

"  But  the  fever,"  says  I,  "  I  know  it  is  in  the  harbor,  for 
the  newspapers  said  so.  They  have  run  up  the  yellow  flag 
wherever  it  is  to  be  found.  See  there." 

Cousin  E.  E.  sat  down  and  dropped  both  hands  in  her  lap. 
16* 


370  The  Man  that  Saved  Me: 

"  Cousin  Phcemie,"  says  she,  "  I  really  don't  know  whether 
you  are  a  real  genius  or  the  greatest  goose  that  ever  lived. 
You  are  just  a  puzzle  to  ine.  Who  ever  heard  of  yellow-fever 
in  the  water  ?  " 

*'  I  have,"  says  I,  <l  in  the  harbor,  and  isn't  the  harbor  all 
water  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  that  is  true." 

"  Then,  isn't  it  dangerous  to  bathe  in  that  water,  and  don't 
that  flag  give  us  warning  not  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Cousin,"  says  she;  "  as  I  said  before,  you  know  too  much 
for  common  ideas  to  make  an  impression.  Now  do  try  to  un 
derstand.  There  is  one  ship  in  the  harbor  that  has  yellow- 
fever  on  board — that  is  all.  It  will  not  be  allowed  to  spread 
from  that  one  ship." 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  "  then  it  has  not  poi 
soned  the  water." 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  But  the  yellow  flag  ?  " 

"  Thafc  means  good  bathing,  and  plenty  of  it.  Come  along. 
Don't  you  see  people  crowding  down  to  the  shore  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XCI. 

THE   MAN   THAT    SAVED    ME. 

RAN  into  my  room,  and  came  out  with  a  bundle  in 
one  hand  and  a  coarse  straw  hat  in  the  other.  That 
group  of  gentlemen  was  just  dropping  down  the  bank 
out  of  sight,  and  after  them  went  a  crowd  of  girls,  with  their 
parasols  flaming  in  the  sun  like  a  bed  of  poppies. 

"Come,"  says  I,   all    joyful  animation,   "I   am  dying    to 
begin." 

E.  E.  spread  her  parasol,  and  off  we  marched. 


The  Man  that  Saved  Me.  371 

We  came  to  the  steep  bank,  and  srent  down  a  flight  of 
wooden  stairs  to  the  sandy  shore.  Right  under  the  bank  was 
a  long  row  of  cubby-houses,  made  of  boards. 

"  This  is  ours,"  says  E.  E.,  "  come  in." 

I  went  in.  Sisters,  what  happened  in  the  privacy  of  that  board 
sanctuary,  is  not  for  the  public — let  this  satisfy  the  curious. 

Two  ladies  went  into  that  little  retreat,  with  bunched-up 
skirts,  beehive  bonnets,  and  a  general  assortment  of  dry-goods, 
such  as  weighs  down  the  ladies  of  the  present  generation  to  an 
extent  that  approaches  martyrdom. 

Two  persons  came  out  skimped  down  into  nothingness. 
They  had  grown  tall  and  slim,  not  to  say  spooky.  There  was 
a  deficiency  of  glossy  ringlets  under  the  two  hats  that  squared 
off  in  front  and  behind,  and  were  flapped  down,  over  each  ear. 

E.  E.'s  plumptitudinous  figure  was  mostly  lost  and  gone,  and 
I — well,  I  felt  like  a  church  steeple  on  a  very  high  hill.  I  say 
nothing,  the  subject  being  one  of  great  delicacy  ;  but  from  my 
experience  in  those  Turkish — well,  pantalettes — the  female 
that  begrudges  her  husband  that  class  of  garments,  must  han 
ker  after  change  more  than  I  do.  When  I  came  out  of  the  lit 
tle  house,  Dempster  stood  on  the  sand  with  a  pair — well,  of 
garments  like  mine,  only  more  so,  on,  and  a  flaming  red  upper 
garment,  bright  enough  to  set  the  waves  on  fire,  covering  his 
broad  bosom. 

Another  gentleman  stood  near  him — blue  and  brown  in  his 
sea-outfit,  youngish,  and  with  eyes  that  made  me  wilt  like  a 
poppy  the  moment  they  fell  upon  me. 

My  goodness,  how  I  did  feel  in  that  dress  !  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  from  kind  of  scrouching  down  to  hide  my 
bare  feet;  but  it  was  of  no  use,  so  I  dug  them  deep  into  the 
sand,  and  felt  myself  blushing  all  over,  while  that  gentleman  in 
blue  fixed  his  eyes  upon  them. 

Anyway,  there  was  nothing  to  be  so  mightily  timorous  about, 
for,  according  to  my  calculation,  two  smaller  or  whiter  feet 
didn't  leave  their  prints  in  the  sand  that  day,  though  I  do  make 
that  assertion  with  my  own  lips,  that  ought  to  be  mute. 


'372  The  Man  that  Saved  Me. 

Cousin  Dempster  came  forward,  took  both  E.  E.  and  nry 
trembling  self  by  the  hand,  and  led  us  to  the  water. 

I  took  one  glance :  a  swarm  of  straw  hats,  a  crowd  of  men, 
women,  and  children  were  floundering,  swimming,  screaming, 
laughing,  tumbling  through  the  waves,  that  lifted  them  up, 
flung  them  down,  pitched  them  forward,  and  behaved  in  a  way 
that  no  well-bred  ocean  would  have  thought  of  doing. 

I  shrank — I  shivered — the  heart  seemed  to  die  in  my  agi 
tated  bosom  when  the  first  wave  kissed  my  feet ;  I  gave  a  lit 
tle  scream,  but  checked  myself  bravely.  The  waves  were  full 
of  men,  some  of  them  were  looking  at  me. 

I  determined  to  act  bravely,  and  be  the  heroine  of  the  occa 
sion.  I  let  go  of  Dempster's  hand.  A  wave  struck  me,  my 
head  went  down  and  my  feet  went  up.  In  my  fright  and  an 
guish  I  remembered  their  size  and  whiteness,  and  found  conso 
lation  in  the  thought  while  I  strove  to  right  myself. 

It  was  in  vain ;  while  I  staggered  with  one  big  \vave,  another 
took  me  unawares,  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  dragged  me 
under,  like  a  wild  beast  growling  over  some  poor  helpless  lamb 
— it  tore  me  away.  I  shrieked — I  plunged — I  fought  madly 
for  my  life.  Up  through  the  vivid  green  of  the  waters  the 
sunshine  came  toward  me  like  light  upon  beaming  emeralds.  I 
clutched  at  it.  I  tried  to  scream ;  but  my  mouth  filled  with 
water,  green  flashes  shot  through  and  through  my  eyes.  I  be 
gan  to  pray.  The  Green  Mountains,  the  farm,  and  all  my  life 
there  shot  through  my  brain ;  things  I  had  forgotten  came  up 
permost,  and  those  thoughts  grew  pleasant  while  the  waters 
seemed  roaring  me  to  sleep. 

Something  came  toward  me,  bluish.  Was  it  a  monster  of 
the  deep  hungry  for  the  life  that  was  so  fast  dying  out  ? 

It  seized  me.  I  was  born  upward  on  a  great  wave,  and 
swept  off  into  the  light.  The  claws  of  some  monster,  or  the 
arms  of  some  friend,  held  me  close.  Which  was  it  ? 

Some  power  of  good  or  evil,  beastly  or  human,  had  dragged 
me  into  the  sand,  where  white  foam  curled  around  me,  and  the 
sun  struck  down  upon  my  eyes  like  fire. 


The  Man  that  Saved  Me.  373 

Some  man  was  thanking  another  for  a  great  favor ;  a  crowd 
of  people  came  swarming  around  me.  I  attempted  to  open  my 
eyes,  but  the  water  dripping  down  from  my  hair  came  into 
them  sharp  and  salt. 

«  Is  she  sick  ?     Is  she  afraid  ?     Do  tell  who  it  is  ?  " 

These  questions  came  from  women  who  had  rushed  up  from 
the  waters,  and  nocked  around  me  like  mermaids.  I  did  not 
care  about  them,  but  by  and  by  it  came  to  me  that  men  might 
be  there  as  well.  I  lifted  my  hand,  swept  the  wet  hair  back 
from  my  face,  and,  with  a  smarting  pain  in  my  eyes,  saw  my 
deliverer. 

His  blue  garments  were  black  with  dripping  water,  the 
thick  hair  streamed  over  his  forehead,  his  bare  feet  looked 
hard  and  powerful  on  the  sand.  It  was  the  man  under  whose 
admiring  eyes  I  had  blushed  and  trembled. 

"  My  preserver ! "  said  I,  clasping  my  wet  fingers  in  an 
ecstacy  of  gratitude  ;  "  shall  I  ever  live  to  thank  you  for  the 
poor  life  you  have  saved  ?  " 

He  smiled,  he  shook  his  head  ;  I  am  afraid  he  laughed,  such 
was  his  joy  and  exultation;  yet  the  modesty  of  true  greatness 
possessed  him  still. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  said.  "  A  wave  knocked  you  head-fore 
most — that  was  all." 

I  knew  better.  It  was  the  inherent  greatness  of  a  noble 
soul  that  impelled  him  to  make  nothing  of  his  own  heroic  act. 
He  must  have  supported  me  miles  on  miles  in  those  stalwart 
arms.  No  protest  of  his  could  lessen  the  bravery  of  his  action 
or  the  force  of  my  gratitude.  If  woman's  gratitude  and 
woman's  love  are  anything,  his  reward  shall  be  great. 

They  bore  me  into  that  weather-beaten  cubby-house,  and 
there,  with  the  help  of  E.  E.,  my  dripping  garments  were  taken 
off,  my  wet  hair  done  up  snugly  under  the  braids  that  had 
been  left  behind,  and,  filled  with  tender  gratitude,  I  walked  up 
to  my  hero  in  blue  before  going  to  my  apartment  in  the 
hotel. 

"  Let  me  see  you  to-morrow,"  said  I,  pressing  the  hand  of 


374  The  Man  that  Saved  Me. 

that  heroic  man.     "  Then  I  may  find  language  to  express  my 
life-long  gratitude." 

He  bowed  ;  he  drew  his  hand,  with  evident  reluctance,  from 
my  clasp,  and  retreated. 

Ah,  sisters,  my  destiny  has  come  !  I  feel  it  in  every  breath 
I  draw,  in  every  sweet  thought  that  haunts  my  brain.  To 
morrow  I  shall  see  him  again.  To-morrow ! 

Oh,  sisters,  he  has  just  left  me.  Alas !  alas  !  for  human 
aspirations.  I  had  written  thus  far  when  he  came. 

I  received  him  in  my  room,  looking  pale,  and,  I  think,  in 
teresting,  for  the  sweet  romance  of  my  feelings  left  its  imprint 
011  my  features.  He  came  in  with  hesitation,  and  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  his  cliair,  looking  ill  at  ease,  as  if  wishing  to  escape 
a  mention  of  his  own  heroism.  I  felt  a  glow  of  admiration,  a 
thrill  of  tender  gratitude. 

"  You  have  saved  my  life,"  I  said,  clasping  my  two  hands, 
"and  from  this  hour  I  devote  that  life  to  your  happiness. 
Tell  me  how  I  can  begin  to  repay  you." 

He  sat  uneasily ;  he  shifted  in  his  chair.  Then  he  mur 
mured  : 

"  Anything  you  please  ;  I  never  thought  of  asking.  It  was 
only  my  duty." 

"  Heroic  man !  "  I  exclaimed ;  "  and  brave  as  modest.  It  is 
my  pleasure  to  be  more  than  grateful.  Never,  never  can  I  re 
pay  you  save  with  the  warmest  and  sweetest  emotions  of  a 
woman's  heart.  I  owe  you — ah,  how  much — how  much !  " 

My  hands  were  clasped,  my  eyes  were  uplifted ;  emotion 
prevented  me  finishing  my  sentence.  He  spoke,  while  my 
soul  halted  for  words — 

"Well,  if  you  think  so  much  of  just  helping  you  out  of  the 
way  of  a  seaward  wave,  supposing  we  say  five  dollars.  It  is 
my  duty,  as  bathing-master,  to  help  people  up  from  the  sand 
when  they  get  face  downwards,  as  you  did ;  but  as  you  insist, 
I  don't  mind  a  fiver." 
.  Oh,  sisters ! 


Pleasure  Bay.  375 


XCII. 

PLEASURE    BAY. 

|EAR  SISTERS: — I  really  do  think  that  Cousin 
Dempster  is  one  of  the  best  creatures  that  ever  lived. 
He  seems  to  understand  all  the  wounds  and  pains  that 
-a  female  woman's  heart  is  exposed  to,  and  sort  of  eases  them 
off,  so  that  you  are  cheated  out  of  half  your  natural  suffer 
ing. 

I  cannot  say  that  the  bathing  in  the  salt-sea  waves  was  not 
a  failure  as  a  matrimonial  speculation ;  but  that  is  my  luck. 
In  some  respects,  the  future  to  me  is  like  a  mirage — I  put  my 
hand  out  hopefully,  and  grasp  nothing  but  fog. 

That  bathing-master  was  a  fine-looking  man  until  he  opened 
his  mouth  and  attempted  to  sit  down  on  a  chair.  He  created 
a  pleasant  delusion  in  my  bosom  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
— well,  we  will  say  nothing  more  about  that — the  private 
sanctuary  of  a  female  woman's  thoughts  are  too  sacred  for  a 
Report. 

If  I  wept  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  no  one  but  the  angel 
that  records  broken  love-dreams  will  ever  know  of  it.  With 
this  precious  angel  I  am  in  full  sympathy.  He  has  done  too 
much  of  that  kind  of  writing  for  me  not  to  feel  the  cruel 
pangs  of  the  long  list  of  disappointments  with  which  his  books 
are  blotted. 

Well,  I  arose  the  next  morning  after  my  experimental  bath, 
hf-avy-eyed,  heavy-hearted,  and  altogether  blue  as  indigo. 
Cousin  Dempster  saw  this,  and  his  generous  heart  seized  upon 
a  remedy. 

"  Let  us  go  down  to  Pleasure  Bay,"  says  he.  "  What  do 
you  think  of  a  day's  crabbing  ?  " 

"  Crabbing  ?  "  says  I,  "just  as  if  I  didn't  feel  crabbed  enough 
already.  Do  you  want  me  to  keep  it  up  all  day  ?  " 

Dempster  laughed  ;  so  did  E.  E. ;  just  as  if  I'd  said  some- 


376  Pleasure  Bay. 

thing  awful  funny,  which  I  wasn't  in  the  least  conscious  of, 
not  having  a  spark  of  fun  left  in  me  since  that  salt-water  del 
uge  and  its  consequences. 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  as  good-natured  as  pie,  "  there  is  nothing 
like  Pleasure  Bay  when  one  has  the  blues — a  lunch  under  the 
trees,  and  a  boat  before  the  breeze." 

I  stopped  him  ;  the  dear,  good  fellow  was  launching  off  into 
poetry  without  knowing  it ;  association  with  genius  is  doing 
everything  with  him.  There  is  no  knowing  where  he  might 
have  ended,  if  I  hadn't  lifted  my  forefinger,  for  a  whole  gust  of 
poetry  was  riling  up  in  his  earthly  nature  like  yeast  in  a  baking 
of  bread. 

"  I'll  go  to  Pleasure  Bay,"  says  I,  "  but,  for  goodness  sake, 
don't  try  that  sort  of  thing  again  ;  genius  isn't  catching,  and 
though  you  have  married  into  our  family,  don't  expect  that  it 
will  spread  like  an  epidemic  into  yours,  because  it  won't." 

"  "Why  not  ?  "  says  he  ;  "  is  there  nothing  in  association  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  exactly  decide,"  says  I ;  ((  strange  things  do 
happen  in  that  direction.  I  have  heard  of  young  women  mar 
rying  literary  men  who  never  wrote  a  line  worth  reading  be 
fore,  who  burst  out  into  full-blown  geniuses  right  in  the 
honeymoon.  But  it  is  wonderful  how  much  their  style  was 
like  their  husbands'.  Of  course,  those  must  be  cases  of  es 
pecial  affinity.  When  a  woman  has  ransacked  a  poor  fellow's 
heart,  she  naturally  begins  to  pillage  his  brain,  and  I  reckon  he 
must  like  it  at  first ;  but  after  that,  he  subsides  into  himself, 
and  she  subsides  into  herself,  and  somehow  she  writes  just  as 
she  did  before,  and  so  does  he  !  " 

"  Then  there  are  plenty  of  young  ladies  who  carry  their  am 
bition  and  their  flirtations  in  among  the  newspaper  people  and 
stray  Bohemians,"  says  E.  E.,  kindling  up  to  the  subject;  "  for 
every  time  they  get  into  a  new  flirtation,  which  is  once  in 
about  three  months,  their  style  changes,  giving  them  a  wonder 
ful  versatility  of  talent  that,  somehow,  dies  out  after  awhile, 
as  she  grows  old  and  homely." 

"  That  is,"  says  Dempster,  laughing,  "  every  time  a  literary 


Pleasure  Bay.  377 

lady  of  this  stamp  changes  her  lover,  she  changes  her  style, 
too." 

"  Exactly,"  answers  E.  E.,  <(  and  where  she  hasn't  any  good- 
natured  lover  she  retires  into  modest  privacy  till  one  comes 
along." 

I  just  listened,  holding  my  breath. 

"  What,"  says  I,  "  does  fraud  and  deception  creep  into  the 
sacred  literature  of  our  country  ?  I  cannot  believe  it." 

"  Can't  you?"  says  E.  E.  ;  "but  you  have  never  been  in 
Bohemia." 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  that  is  a  part  of  Europe  that  I  hope  to  visit, 
but  never  have.  Is  it  a  popular  place  for  Americans?  " 

"  Oh,  wonderfully  popular,  for  people  who  dash  off  things 
here  and  there,  write  for  this  and  that,  and  are  willing  to  give 
half  that  they  earn  and  know  to  any  adventurer  that  comes 
along,  free  gratis  for  nothing ;  or,  on  occasion,  sell  reputation 
by  the  line,  and  for  a  price.  Oh,  Bohemia  is  a  splendid  place 
for  adventurers  and  adventuresses  to  forage  in !  " 

"  What !  "  says  I,  "  genius  sell  itself?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  and  its  readers,  too." 

"  Cousin  E.  E.,"  says  I,  "  you  slander  the  grandest,  the  pur 
est,  the  most  sublime  people  on  the  earth." 

"  Do  I  ?  "  says  she,  nodding  her  head  and  laughing.  "  Wait 
and  see." 

"  Remember — you  are  speaking  of  authors,  the  first  and  pur 
est  aristocracy  known  to  our  free  nation." 

"  No  ;  I  speak  of  would-be  authors — guerillas  in  literature 
— men  and  women  of  erratic  ability,  who  adore  inspiration  and 
scorn  work ;  for  authorship,  I  am  told,  and  believe,  requires 
the  hardest  work  of  any  calling  in  the  world." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  does,"  said  I,  drawing  a  long  breath,  a  but 
then  such  work  brings  its  own  prompt  payment.  The  power 
to  write  is  happiness  in  itself." 

((  But  what  has  this  to  do  with  Pleasure  Bay  ?  "  says  Demp 
ster  ;  ((  we  mean  to  go  there — not  to  Bohemia." 

"  Just  so,"  says  I,  a- tying  on  my  bonnet. 


378  Pleasure  Bay. 

"We  got  into  Dempster's  carriage,  and  after  a  delightful 
drive,  we  came  down  on  the  edge  of  a  little  bay,  with  green 
grass  growing  close  down  to  the  shore,  and  great,  tall  trees 
clumped  here  and  there  all  around  it. 

I  was  so  charmed  with  the  scenery  that  I  didn't  realize 
where  we  were  till  the  carriage  stopped  before  a  white  house, 
with  a  long  wooden  stoop  in  front,  when  we  got  out  and 
walked  right  away  down  to  the  shore,  where  a  plank  plat 
form  ran  out  from  the  land,  and  a  cunning  little  boat,  with 
white  sails,  lay  dipping  up  and  down  like  a  duck  in  the 
water. 

Sisters,  I'm  not  timersome,  but  getting  into  a  boat  that 
rocks  like  a  cradle  in  the  water  tries  me,  I  must  own  to  that. 
With  what  holding  on  and  keeping  your  dress  well  down  upon 
the  ankles,  one  is  seized  with  a  sense  of  being  awfully  unsteady. 
This  riles  up  the  constitution  to  a  state  of  dizziness  that  makes 
your  ears  buz  like  a  bumblebee's  nest. 

I  was  thankful  to  get  seated  at  last,  and,  tucking  up  my 
dress,  prepared  at  once  for  a  long  sea- voyage.  E.  E.  had  slung 
a  great  straw  gypsy  hat  on  her  arm,  by  the  strings,  when  she 
left  Long  Branch,  which  she  bent  down  over  her  head  like  an 
umbrella  with  herself  for  a  handle ;  over  that  she  spread  a  broad 
yellow  parasol  that  blazed  in  the  hot  air  like  a  great  sun 
flower. 

"  Phcemie,"  says  she,  a-looking  up  from  under  her  straw 
tent,  "  didn't  you  bring  a  flat?  " 

"  No,"  says  I ;  "  the  young  fellows  of  that  stamp  didn't  hap 
pen  to  be  about  when  we  started." 

"  Dear  me !  you'll  burn  your  face  up,"  says  she  j  a  that  bee 
hive  is  no  protection." 

"  About  as  much  as  one  of  your  York  flats  would  be,"  says 
I.  "  But  supposing  I  hoist  my  parasol,  too — one  don't  need  a 
beau  for  that." 

The  sun  was  pouring  down  like  blazes,  and  I  was  mighty 
glad  to  spread  my  parasol,  I  can  tell  you ;  so  I  did  it,  and  set 
tled  down  on  the  same  bench  with  E.  E. 


Netting  Crabs.  379 

Dempster  had  been  awful  busy  on  shore,  pulling  out  fish- 
lines,  looking  up  nets  that  swung  like  a  great  hang-bird's  nest, 
on  the  end  of  a  pole :  and  now  he  was  on  his  knees,  hacking  a 
fish  into  chunks,  which  he  tied  to  a  line  and  dropped  into  the 
bottom  of  the  boat.  At  last  he  lifted  his  great  straw  hat, 
wiped  the  blazing  warmth  from  his  face,  and  jumped  in. 


CHAPTER  XCIII. 

NETTING    CEABS. 

|H,  sisters!  judge  of  my  feelings,  when  directly  after 
Dempster,  came  a  splendid  gentleman — a  creature  of 
romance,  shaded  from  the  vulgar  gaze  by  a  felt  hat, 
and  dressed  like  a  mariner  along-shore.  He  lifted  his  hat  to 
me,  and  also  to  E.  E. — with  a  lofty  reservation  in  her  case. 

"  Mr.  Burke,"  says  Dempster,  with  a  degree  of  carelessness 
that,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  characteristic — t(  he  will  teach  you 
how  to  catch  the  creatures ;  for  there  is  an  art  in  it." 

"  Then  I  shall  never  succeed,"  says  I,  in  a  low,  gentle  tone 
of  voice.  "  Where  anything  but  pure  nature  is  expected,  I 
must  always  keep  in  the  shade.  You  know,  Cousin  E.  E., 
what  an  artless  young  thing  I  always  was." 

E.  E.  smiled — not  at  me  but  right  up  in  the  face  of  that 
strange  gentleman.  I  declare,  I  nevtvr  saw  anything  so  bold 
in  my  life  !  But  it  was  of  no  use  ;  he  came  and  sat  down  close 
to  me.  In  fact,  he  took  the  parasol  from  my  hand  with  a 
gallant  air  that  made  my  heart  beat  like  a  partridge  on  a  log. 
In  one  respect  that  movement  wasn't  an  advantage  :  the  para 
sol  was  not  large  enough  to  shade  two,  and  he  held  it  carelessly, 
as  was  natural  to  a  dashing,  splendid  creature  like  him ;  but 
somehow  the  shade  always  fell  on  his  side.  I  felt  dreadfully 
certain  that  freckles  were  falling  like  split  peas  all  over  my  face. 


380  Netting  Crabs. 

Still  he  smiled  so  sweetly  and  looked  so  magnificent  that, 
freckles  or  no  freckles,  I  was  ready  to  give  him  up  my  beehive, 
too,  if  he  had  only  looked  as  if  he  wanted  it. 

Dear  me,  how  that  boat  did  heel  up  and  rock  as  we  went 
sailing  off  down  to  a  green  grassy  point,  where  the  gentleman 
told  me  the  crabs  swarmed  like  lady-bugs  around  a  full-blown 
rose — pretty  simliar,  wasn't  it,  sisters,  and  so  original  ? 

I  was  dying  to  know  what  sort  of  a  fish  a  crab  was,  never 
having  seen  any  in  our  brooks.  Were  they  like  sun-fish,  rain- 
bowisli  and  flat;  or  like  trout,  sparkled  over  with  dripping 
jewels  ;  or  small  and  silvery,  like  shiners  and  pin-fish  ? 

I  did  not  like  to  ask  that  magnificent  stranger  about  this, 
and  let  him  believe  that  crabbing  had  been  an  amusement  of  my 
childhood  up  in  the  Green  Mountains — not  that  I  said  so  out 
right — but  my  idea  of  discretion  is  to  say  nothing  of  a  thing 
you  don't  understand,  but  wait  and  find  out.  What  is  the 
good  of  telling  the  world  how  much  you  don't  know  ? 

Well,  I  hadn't  the  least  idea  what  a  crab  was,  but  the  name 
made  me  feel  a  little  rily.  The  water  was  full  of  them ;  I  was 
pretty  sure  to  find  out ;  so  I  waited. 

By  and  by,  Dempster  flung  a  great  stone  co-slash  into  the 
water,  and  tied  us  up  just  below  a  little  green  point  of  land 
that  took  the  sunshine  in  its  long  grass  till  it  seemed  full  of 
drifting  gold  which  spread  out  upon  the  water  in  soft,  shiny 
ripples. 

E.  E.  shut  down  her  parasol.  Mr.  Burke  shut  mine. 
"  Now,"  says  he,  "  for  the  lines." 

With  this  he  took  up  a  lump  of  raw  fish,  gave  it  a  swing  and 
a  splash  into  the  water,  and  handed  me  the  other  end.  Demp 
ster  gave  another  line  and  a  chunk  of  fish  to  his  wife,  and  then 
took  one  of  the  hang-bird  nets  and  stood  by  as  if  he  meant  to 
do  business. 

By  and  by  I  felt  a  sort  of  hungry  nibbling  at  the  end  of  my 
line,  and  gave  it  a  jerk  just  as  if  it  had  been  a  brook  trout,  hard 
to  catch. 

"  Oh,  goodness !  "  I  just  dropped  the  line  and  screamed  like 


Netting  Crabs.  381 

everything,  scared  half  to  death.  If  ever  an  innocent  female 
caught  a  claw-footed  imp,  I  came  near  doing  it  then.  Why  the 
animal,  varmint,  double  and  twisted  serpent — I  don't  know 
what  to  call  it — clung  to  the  bait  till  I  hauled  him  clear  out  of 
the  water,  and  then  fell  back  with  a  big  sprawl  and  an  awful 
splash,  sinking  down  again  like  a  great  mammoth  spider  that 
made  the  water  bubble  with  disgust. 

ft  What  was  it  ?  What  was  it  ?  "  I  said,  taming  my  scared 
face  on  Mr.  Burke.  "  What  kind  of  young  sea-devil  is  this  ?  " 

He  laughed,  and  laid  down  the  net  he  had  just  taken  up. 

"  You  pulled  too  quick,"  says  he.     "  Crabs  are  like  women." 

"  Like  women,"  I  shrieked.  "  What,  those  horrid  things  ? 
Sir,  I  thank  you  !  " 

My  voice  shook  so  I  could  hardly  get  the  words  out  with 
proper  irony.  A  generous  rage  in  behalf  of  my  sex  possessed 
me. 

"  You  did  not  hear  me  out,"  says  he,  pleasant  as  a  sweet 
apple.  "  I  was  going  to  say  crabs  were  like  women  in  this  re 
spect.  They  must  be  led  along,  enticed,  persuaded  up  to  the 
bait." 

"  Oh  !  "  says  I,  "  that  is  a  sentiment  I  can  appreciate,  but 
the  comparison  is  dreadful." 

"  There  is  hardly  anything  in  nature  which  would  not  be 
dreadful  compared  to  some  females  that  I  know  of,"  says  he. 

I  laid  one  hand  on  my  bosom  and  bowed,  but  the  next  in 
stant  I  felt  one  of  those  scraggly  fiends  pulling  at  my  line,  and 
I  drew  it  softly  in,  hand-over-hand.  Oh,  how  the  beastly  thing 
crept  and  crawled,  and  spread  its  scraggles  as  it  nibbled  and 
rose  with  the  bait !  I  declare  it  made  the  flesh  creep  on  my 
bones. 

"  That's  right,  draw  gently — lure  him  up.     Ho  !  " 

As  he  spoke  Mr.  Burke  just  slid  his  net  under  the  varmint, 
and  flashed  him  up  into  the  air,  bait  and  all. 

Sisters,  there  is  no  use  in  talking  ;  if  these  creatures  they  call 
crabs  ain't  great  salt-sea  spiders,  no  such  animals  exist ;  and 
eels  ain't  fish,  that's  all. 


382  Netting  Crabs. 

Oh,  I  wish  you  could  see  them  crawl  up  through  the  sea- 
grass  and  spread  themselves.  I  declare  it  is  just  awful. 

Well,  down  went  this  crab — which  they  all  gloried  in,  being  a 
great  big  gridiron  of  a  fellow — into  a  hole  in  one  end  of  the 
boat,  and  out  went  my  bait  after  another. 

At  one  great  pull  I  brought  up  two  wapping  big  fellows  at  a 
time,  and  trolled  them  on  while  Mr.  Burke  scooped  them  up> 
Chasing  dragon  flies  in  the  old  times  was  nothing  to  it. 

E.  E.  was  busy  as  a  bee  on  her  side  of  the  boat,  Dempster 
ladled  the  animals  up  for  her,  till  we  had  a  couple  of  tlozen  try 
ing  to  creep  away,  and  fighting  each  other  like  chickens  in  a 
coop. 

By  this  time  I  could  see  that  E.  E.,  like  a  good  many  other 
people  I  could  mention,  was  getting  sort  of  restless  for  other 
attentions  than  those  her  husband  could  give.  She  kept  cast 
ing  side-glances  at  Mr.  Burke,  and  at  last  says  she  to  Demp 
ster : 

"  Dempster,  it  isn't  expected  that  a  man  should  always  be  a- 
hanging  about  his  wife.  It's  time  for  you  to  do  some  netting 
for  Phoamie." 

E.  E.  said  this  almost  in  a  whisper,  but  I  heard  it,  and  all 
the  temper  in  me  riled  up  to  my  throat. 

Sisters,  this  married  woman  was  just  dying  to  change  off  her 
husband  for  the  beau  that  was  devoting  all  his  energies  to  me. 
I  felt  that  the  crisis  had  come  that  self-interest  arid  a  high 
moral  standard  demanded  that  I  should  keep  this  man  from  the 
lure  of  a  married  woman.  I  owed  it  to  myself,  to  Dempster, 
and,  above  all,  to  the  cause  of  morality,  to  hold  that  man 
firmly  to  his  post. 

"  Phcemie,"  says  Dempster,  coming  up  to  me  and  looking  as 
if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth,  "  let  me  scoop  for  you  ?  " 

Before  I  could  speak  Mr.  Burke  took  that  nefarious  hint 
and  went  over  to  E.  E. 

I  gave  Dempster  a  look  of  withering  contempt,  and  flung  my 
bait  out  with  a  splash  that  must  have  scared  all  the  crabs  out 
of  a  year's  growth. 


Netting  Crabs.  383 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  you  may  be  willing  to  desert  the  marital 
outposts,  but  I  will  not  help  you.  Go  back  to  your  wife ;  I 
can  catch  all  the  crabs  I  want  without  help." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  like,"  says  Dempster,  and,  settling  down 
on  the  bow  of  the  boat,  he  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes  and 
went  to  sleep,  then  and  there. 

Three  crabs  come  up  to  my  bait — nibble,  nibble,  nibble.  I 
drew  in  the  line,  they  crawled  through  the  water  after  it. 
Still  I  drew  and  drew.  Three  great  plump  fellows  came  to  the 
top  of  the  water.  It  was  a  good  chance  to  call  Burke  away. 
He  was  leaning  over  E.  E.  and  whispering,  while  she  listened. 

"  Here,  here!  "  screamed  I,  *'  three  at  a  haul.  "Will  nobody 
help  me  ?  " 

That  man  did  not  seem  to  hear  me,  but  kept  on  whispering, 
while  E.  E.  listened  with  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  her  eyes  half 
shut.  The  sight  made  me  awful  mad. 

"  I'll  catch  them  myself,"  says  I,  and  down  I  plunged  my 
hand  into  the  water.  I  meant  to  grip  the  crab,  but  he  gripped 
me. 

Oh,  mercy,  how  he  pinched  and  bit,  and  screwed  his  claws 
around  my  hand.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  twisting  it  into  a 
corkscrew.  I  shrieked — I  yelled — I  tried  to  shake  the  varmint 
off — to  dash  him  to  atoms  against  the  side  of  the  boat.  It 
was  of  no  use  :  his  sharp  claws  dug  into  me  in  fifty  places ;  he  bit 
like  fury.  The  blood  ran  down  my  fingers,  my  voice  grew 
weaker,  but  it  broke  up  that  flirtation.  It  was  a  cruel  price, 
but  I  paid  it  cheerfully.  While  I  retain  my  moral  sense,  no  mar 
ried  woman  shall  degrade  her  sex  by  a  flirtation  in  my  presence. 
Never,  never! 

Yes,  my  screams  broke  up  that  well-arranged  plan  to  delude 
Mr.  Burke  from  my  side,  and  it  broke  up  the  crabbing  party 
too. 

Dempster  woke  up  and  hauled  in  the  lines.  We  had  thirty 
crabs  floundering  in  the  hold,  all  fighting  like  imps  of  darkness. 

"  We'll  have  them  for  dinner,"  says  Dempster,  ferociously, 
"  they  won't  be  so  lively  half  an  hour  from  now." 


384  Extra  Politeness. 

He  was  right,  it  took  us  just  fifteen  minutes  to  sail  back  to 
that  white,  house  with  the  long  stoop.  Fifteen  minutes  after 
that,  every  crab  was  in  water  so  hot  that  they  gave  up  clawing 
and  began  to  turn  furiously  red. 

Half  an  hour  after  we  sat  around  a  long  table  out  under  the 
trees,  with  a  great  platter  of  those  scrawny  creatures  lying  with 
their  red  shells  uppermost,  a  good  deal  easier  to  catch  than  they 
had  been,  I  can  tell  you. 

Mr.  Burke  was  busy  as  could  be,  telling  me  how  to  put  in 
my  knife  under  the  red  shell,  so  as  to  lay  the  sweet  white  flesh 
open. 

I  say  nothing,  but  it  seemed  to  me  there  was  one  jealous  fe 
male  around  those  premises,  and  that  female  certainly  was  not 
me. 

The  meat  of  those  creatures  is  just  delicious — what  there  is 
of  it. 

Take  it  altogether,  sisters,  it  seems  to  me  that  catching  and 
eating  crabs  is  an  amusement  which  promises  better  than  bath 
ing. 

If  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  Mr.  Burke  held  my  hand 
longer  than  was  quite  necessary  when  he  said  good-night  after 
we  reached  the  hotel.  I  saw  E.  E.  looking  at  us  sideways,  and 
I  let  it  rest — rest  lovingly  in  his  clasp  long  enough  to  wring  her 
heart.  What  right  has  she  to  have  any  feeling  about  it,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  Isn't  she  married  ? 


CHAPTER    XCIV. 

EXTRA   POLITENESS. 


]EAR    SISTERS  : — Life  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  have 
when  its  chariot-wheels  revolve  in  smooth  places.     I 
went  to  bed  last  night  angry  with  Cousin  E.  E.    Ever 
since  Mr.  Burke  was  introduced  into  our  party  she  has  exhib- 


Extra  Politeness.  385 

ited  a  desire  for  gentlemen's  attention  which  I  think  entirely 
unbecoming  a  married  lady.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  severe  or  cap 
tious  ;  such  feelings  should  be  left  to  maiden  ladies  of  an  age 
that  I  have  not  yet  dreamed  of  reaching.  But  a  married  wom 
an  who  hankers  after  any  other  man's  society  than  that  of  her 
own  lawful  husband  is — well,  not  to.  speak  harshly,  an  example 
that  some  people  may  follow,  but  I  won't. 

This  morning,  as  we  sat  on  the  long  stoop  of  the  hotel,  gaz 
ing  out  on  the  broad  expanse  of  the  boundless  ocean,  Mr.  Burke 
came  gently  to  my  side,  and  spoke : 

«  Miss  Frost." 

My  heart  beat ;  my  eyelids  dropped,  but  I  lifted  them,  in  shy 
innocence,  to  his  face,  inquiringly,  wistfully.  "What  would  he 
say  next  ? 

"  Miss  Frost,  have  you  ever  seen  a  clam-bake  ?  " 

I  reflected  a  moment.  Were  clam-bakes  indigenous  to  our 
Yermont  soil  ?  Were  they  a  product  of  the  mountains,  or  a 
spontaneous  growth  of  the  river  vales  ? 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  seen  them  growing  in  Vermont," 
says  I,  at  last ;  "  yet  there  are  few  roots  or  vegetables,  wild  or 
tame,  that  I  don't  know  something  about.  There  is  wake-robin, 
on  the  mountains,  with  its  spokes  of  red  berries ;  and  snake- 
root,  and  adder's-tongue ;  but  I  don't  remember  clam-bakes  among 
them,  and  I  know  they  are  not  cultivated  in  our  parts  as  gar- 
den-sas,  I  beg  pardon,  as  vegetables." 

Mr.  Burke  smiled  out  loud,  and  his  black  mustache  curled 
down  on  each  side  of  his  lips  delightfully. 

"  I  fancy  you  have  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  in  Ver 
mont.  Clam-bakes  are  only  found  at  the  sea-side — principally 
around  Khode  Island.  I  don't  think  they  prevail  much  in  the 
mountains,  as  yet." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  says  I.  "  Then  they  are  a  salt-water 
plant?" 

"  Principally  found  in  the  sand  and  mud." 

"  That  don't  seem  to  me  very  remarkable,"  says  I ;  f(  most 
vegetables  are  found  in  one  or  the  other.  Watermelons,  for  in- 


386  Extra  Politeness. 

stance,  grow  best  in  a  bare  sand-bank  :  perhaps  your  new-fangled 
vegetable  is  of  that  species  ?  " 

Again  his  black  mustache  gave  a  lovely  curl,  and  his  black 
eyes  looked  into  mine  so  tenderly,  as  if  something  I  had  said 
tickled  him  almost  to  death. 

"  You  are  an  original  creature,"  said  he. 

1  put  one  hand  on  my  heart,  and  bowed. 

"  People  about  Sprucehill,  especially  the  Society  of  Infinite 
Progress,  have  done  me  the  honor  to  think  so,"  says  I. 

"  But  about  the  clam-bake — if  you  like  it,  we  must  start  for 
Pleasure  Bay  at  once,"  says  Mr.  Burke. 

"  Do  they  grow  down  there  ?  "  says  I. 

'f  Not  as  a  general  thing,  but  we  shall  make  out  to  get  one 
up,  with  a  little  trouble." 

"  Do  they  grow  so  deep  ?  "  says  I. 

"  You  will  see  when  we  get  there.  Mrs.  Dempster  is  ready, 
and  the  carriage  is  waiting." 

To  please  that  man  I  would  have  done  almost  anything ;  but 
it  did  seem  a  wild-goose  chase  for  a  lot  of  grown  people  to  rush 
down  to  Pleasure  Bay  for  the  fun  of  pulling  up  a  lot  of  the 
strangest  vegetables  that  ever  grew. 

"  Do  make  haste  !  "  cried  E.  E.  through  the  green  slats  of 
her  window-blinds. 

I  got  up  and  shook  out  my  dress. 

"  It  will  be  such  fun !  "  she  called  out.  "  Mr.  Burke  has 
been  so  kind  as  to  invite  us,  so  don't  keep  him  waiting." 

I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  dark  orbs  of  that  noble-looking  man, 
and  he  must  have  known  from  the  expression  that  I  did  not 
mean  to  keep  him  waiting  in  any  respect.  Gently  bending  my 
head,  I  withdrew. 

I  came  from  my  room  like  a  moving  picture,  with  my  black 
alpaca  newly  flounced,  and  surmounted  by  that  fleecy  white 
jacket  with  great  buttons  and  double-breasted  in  front.  Then 
my  white  hat,  curled  up  victoriously,  and  the  feather  waving 
above  it  and  curlecued  around  it,  was  enough  to  tantalize  a 
minister. 


The  Clam-bake.  387 

Mr.  Burke  smiled  graciously  when  he  saw  me  come  forth 
clad  in  the  whiteness  of  my  principles,  and  I  knew  that  the 
sympathy  between  us  was  national  as  well  as  individual. 

E.  E.  came  out  of  her  room  flaunting  a  red  jacket  and  a  long 
black  plume.  Dashy  for  a  married  woman!  But  I  said 
nothing.  Let  that  young  woman  work  out  her  own  destiny ; 
I  am  not  her  husband.  I  caught  her  sending  sly  glances  from 
under  her  eyelashes  at  Mr.  Burke.  I  wish  Dempster  had  been 
close  by,  to  see  for  himself,  that's  all. 

If  there  is  anything  on  earth  that  I  detest,  it  is  a  flirty  mar 
ried  woman. 

"We  rode  down  to  Pleasure  Bay,  four  in  the  carriage,  with 
that  child  perched  up  alongside  of  the  driver.  E.  E.  wanted 
to  sit  opposite  to  Mr.  Burke,  and>  seized  with  a  fit  of  extra 
politeness  for  that  occasion  only,  insisted  on  it  that  I  should 
get  in  first — which  would  have  brought  me  face  to  face  with 
Dempster.  But  I,  too,  was  suffering  under  a  sudden  epidemic 
of  good  manners,  and  stepped  back,  bowing  till  the  white 
feather  shaded  my  face.  She  kept  waving  her  hand ;  but  I 
would  not  be  persuaded  into  pushing  myself  before  a  married 
woman,  and  at  last  she  got  in,  biting  her  lips  as  if  she  had  a 
tenpenny  nail  between  her  teeth.  I  followed,  looking  innocent 
as  a  cat  with  cream  on  its  tongue,  and  away  we  went. 


CHAPTER  XCV. 

THE    CLAM-BAKE. 

|  WO  carriage-loads  of  people  were  at  Pleasure  Bay,  wan 
dering  about  under  the  trees  in  front  of  the  hotel. 
Down  between  them  and  the  bank  was  a  lot  of  men 
piling  up  a  heap  of  round  stones  and  crossing  sticks  of  wood 
over  them  till  a  high  sort  of  a  cross-beam  pinnacle  was  built, 


388  The  Clam-bake. 

to  which  one  of  the  men  set  fire.  Mercy,  how  it  blazed  up  and 
flashed  through  the  cracks  in  the  wood !  They  seemed  to  en 
joy  the  blaze,  and  worked  like  benvers  around  it — though  I 
don't  know  how  a  beaver  works,  never  having  seen  one. 

Some  of  the  men  went  down  to  the  water,  and,  dragging  up 
great  armfuls  of  dark  green  and  yellow  grass,  swelled  out  here 
and  there  with  bulbs  and  blisters,  laid  it  in  a  heap  before  the 
fire.  Some  of  the  others  sat  down  on  the  rocks,  with  pails  of 
potatoes  and  sweet  corn  between  their  knees,  which  they  began 
to  wash  and  tie  up  in  their  husks., 

I  was  awful  curious  to  know  what  all  this  was  about,  but 
made  up  my  mind  to  wait  and  see ;  for  Mr.  Burke  seemed  so 
anxious  and  busy  that  I  didn't  want  to  stop  him  by  asking 
questions. 

When  the  wet  weeds,  potatoes,  and  corn  came  on,  I  thought 
that  the  next  thing  would  be  some  clam-bake  ;  but  instead  of 
that,  a  fellow  came  down  from  the  house  with  a  lot  of  young 
chickens,  picked  clean,  which  he  carried  by  the  legs,  and 
another  loafed  up  from  the  water  with  three  great  horrid  green 
monsters,  like  crabs  swelled  out — green  as  the  sea-weed,  and  so 
dreadfully  crawly  that  the  very  sight  of  them  made  me  creep 
all  over. 

"  What  on  earth  are  those  creatures  ?  "  says  I  to  Dempster ; 
"  mammoth  cockroaches  that  have  taken  to  a  seafaring  life,  or 
what?" 

"  Why,  lobsters,"  says  he. 

"  Lobsters !  "  says  I.  "  Not  a  bit  of  it.  All  the  lobsters  I 
have  ever  seen  were  bright  red,  and  still  as  mice." 

"  That  was  after  they  were  cooked,"  says  he.  "  Wait  till 
these  come  out,  and  they'll  be  red  enough,  I  promise  you." 

Well,  I  waited  and  watched,  for  what  these  men  were  up  to 
was  more  than  I  could  make  out.  When  the  wood  was  all 
burned  down  they  brushed  the  coals  and  ashes  away  with  an 
old  broom,  and  two  colored  men  came  up  from  the  shore,  car 
rying  a  two-bushel  basket  full  of  little  longish-round  creatures, 
hard  as  stone,  and  with  a  long  black  sort  of  a  knot  hanging 


The  Clam-bake. 

out  of  one  end.  They  were  dripping  wet,  and  pieces  of  sea 
weed  clung  to  them,  as  if  they  grew  in  the  water  like  the  crabs 
and  lobsters. 

Well,  when  the  ashes  were  swept  away,  and  nothing  but  the 
hot  stones  were  left  crowded  close  together,  the  two  nig — well, 
colored  persons,  lifted  that  great  basket  between  them  and 
poured  the  round  creatures  among  the  hot  stones  till  they  sissed 
again.  Then  they  piled  on  a  heap  of  sea-weed,  and  a  cloud  of 
steam  came  pouring  through.  Then  another  layer,  and  over 
that  the  potatoes  and  corn  were  poured  down  and  laid  on. 
Then  another  layer  of  weeds,  and  the  chickens  and  three  great 
large  fish,  done  up  in  cloths,  were  laid  out  for  a  steaming,  and 
with  them  those  live,  green  lobsters.  Oh,  mercy !  how  they 
did  spread  their  claws  and  crawl  through  the  sea- weed !  It  was 
enough  to  make  you  creep  all  over ;  but  the  men  soon  smoth 
ered  them  with  steaming  grass,  which  heaved  up  and  down  for 
a  while,  and  then  sank  off,  till  the  lobsters  lay  as  dead  as  the 
chickens,  and  made  no  more  fuss  about  being  roasted  alive. 

By  this  time  the  whole  heap — grass,  chickens,  corn,  lobsters, 
and  other  shell  creatures — was  big  as  a  small  haystack.  At 
last  the  two  colored  persons  came  down  with  a  long  tin  pail, 
in  which  was  a  roll  of  butter  and  some  vinegar.  They  sunk 
the  pail  down  into  the  steaming  sea-grass,  clapped  the  corn  on, 
and  buried  it  with  all  the  rest.  Then  more  sea-weed  and  an 
old  boat-sail  flung  over  all,  and  that  little  mountain  of  roasting 
things  was  left  to  steam  and  sizzle  while  the  whole  party  went 
to  take  a  walk  along  the  shore. 

Mr.  Burke  kept  by  my  side,  and  part  of  the  time  he  carried 
my  parasol,  shading  my  face  with  it  in  the  tenderest  way. 

He  said  something  about  the  clam-bake,  but  I  had  really 
got  so  sick  of  everything  in  the  fish,  fowl,  or  vegetable  line, 
that  a  curiosity,  more  or  less,  was  of  no  consequence,  so  I  said 
I  should  know  how  I  liked  clam-bakes  better  when  I  had  seen 
one. 

He  answered  that  would  be  soon,  for  half  an  hour  was 
enough  to  put  one  through. 


39°  That  Clam-bake. 

Sisters,  I  was  in  no  sort  of  hurry  about  it,  for  the  rest  of 
them  were  busy  chatting  and  talking,  so  that  we  were  just  as 
good  as  alone,  and  the  moments  were  precious  as  gold  sands  in 
an  hour-glass. 

By  and  by  some  one  set  up  a  shout.  Mr.  Burke  wheeled 
right  round,  and  says  he  : 

"  They  are  going  to  open  the  clam -bake ;  come  and  see  it 
done?" 


CHAPTEH  XCVI. 

THAT    CLAM   BAKE. 

j)E  walked  fast.  I  followed  him  with  reluctant  foot 
steps.  What  did  I  care  for  clam-bakes  or  any  other 
new-fangled  vegetable  while  he  was  by  my  side  ? 

The  crowd  were  all  around  that  heap  of  sea- weed  when  we 
came  up.  Men,  women,  Irish  help,  and  nig — well,  colored 
freemen,  with  eager  eyes  and  open  mouths,  were  waiting  for 
the  sail-cloth  to  be  taken  oif.  On  the  grass,  under  the  trees, 
a  great  long  table  was  set  out  with  plates,  glasses,  castors,  and 
things.  At  the  end,  two  pails  of  ice,  with  the  necks  of  a  dozen 
bottles  peeping  up  like  hungry  birds  in  a  nest,  stood  ready  for 
somebody  to  uncork. 

Well,  the  nig — freedman  gave  that  sail  a  jerk,  and  a  cloud  of 
salty  steam  rolled  up  from  the  sea-grass.  Then  he  raked  away 
a  winrow  of  that,  dug  out  a  pail  of  melted  butter  and  vinegar, 
and  held  a  lobster  up  by  one  claw,  looking  red  as  a  British 
soldier's  jacket.  The  creature  had  given  up  fighting,  and 
hung  in  his  hand  meek  as  Moses.  •  The  poor  thing  was  green 
enough  when  he  went  in,  but  came  out  blazing  red  and  steam 
ing  hot. 

More  sea- weed;  chickens  dripping  with  gravy;  heaps  of 
corn ;  potatoes,  mealy,  and  broken  open ;  fish,  and  then  those 


That  Clam-bake.  391 

longish-round  shell  things,  heaped  in  plates  and  dishes,  were 
carried  off  to  the  table.  We  followed  those  dishes ;  we  sat 
down  to  eat.  Those  longish  hard-shelled  creatures  had  all 
burst  open,  and  something  that  smelt  delicious  lay  inside,  with 
black  heads  sticking  out. 

I  watched  to  see  what  the  rest  did  with  those  animals,  then 
seized  one  by  the  head,  drew  him  out,  soused  him  in  the  molted 
butter,  and  dropped  him  softly  into  my  open  mouth. 

"  Delicious,  scrumptious,  beyond  anything  I  ever  ate  in  my 
life,"  says  I,  when  Mr.  Burke  leaned  toward  me  and  wanted  to 
know  how  I  liked  it.  "  But  what  are  these  black-headed  things 
with  shells,  called?" 

"  Oh,  soft-shells— the  best  part  of  the  clam-bake,  I  think," 
says  he. 

"  I  reckon  you  are  right,"  says  I,  taking  another  little  fel 
low  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  biting  him  off  at  the  shoul 
ders.  Then  I  drank  a  glass  of  the  sparklingest  cider  you  ever 
tasted,  and  went  in  for  an  ear  of  corn,  smoking  hot,  and  the 
breast  of  a  chicken. 

Mr.  Burke  wanted  me  to  eat  some  of  the  red  lobster,  but  the 
thought  of  it  made  me  creep  all  over,  so  I  asked  to  be  excused, 
and  said  I  preferred  a  dozen  or  two  more  soft-shells. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  first-rate  cider  drank  around  that 
table,  and  we  left  a  bushel  of  open  shells  under  the  trees, 
besides  a  heap  of  lobsters,  clams,  and  chicken  bones,  well 
picked. 

Then  we  went  back  to  look  at  the  place  where  they  had  been 
cooked,  and  found  nothing  but  a  heap  of  smoking  stones,  a 
ring  of  burnt  grass,  and  a  pile  of  steamy  sea- weed.  Somehow, 
tlie  sight  of  it  all  made  me  feel  sort  of  faint,  and  it  didn't 
seem  to  me  that  I  should  ever  want  to  eat  or  drink  again. 

We  went  home  from  Pleasure  Bay  in  the  carriage,  feeling 
lazy  and  kind  of  half  sea-sick. 

That  night  I  dreamed  that  a  whole  regiment  of  green  lob 
sters  were  crawling  over  my  bed,  clawing  at  me  fiercely  as  they 
went.  Then  I  thought  that  Mr.  Burke  came  and  shoved  them 


One  Hour  of  Heaven. 

off  with  both  arms  flung  out,  and  invited  me  to  breakfast  on  a 
heap  of  empty  shells,  dipped  in  butter,  which  set  awful  heavy 
on  my  stomach. 

In  fact,  I  had  a  worrying  night,  and  got  up  feeling  as  if  I 
had  been  feasting  on  tenpenny  nails  and  roasted  flat-irons. 


XCVII. 

ONE    HOUR    OP   HEAVEN. 


JEAR  SISTERS  :-You  haven't  the  least  idea  of  what 
warm  weather  is  in  Vermont.     Why,  if  one  of  your 
mountain  trout  streams  could  have  runt  hrou-h  New 
i-k  it  would  have  boiled  over  and  cooked  the  poo'r  little 
speckled  creatures  that  live  in  its  waves.     You  never  saw  any- 
thing  like  it  in  your  born  days.     The  sea  breezes  at  Long 
Branch  seemed  to  come  over  an  ocean  of  melted  lead,  blasted 
up  by  some  old  furnace  of  a  volcano.     For  one  whole  week  I 
s  just  dying  of  envy,  when  I  thought  of  the  pigs  roving 
in  our  village,  with  such  lovely  mud  puddles  to  lie  down 
m,  without  caring  a  sumarke  whether  their  clothes  were  mussed 
-excuse  that  word,  I  got  it  here  in  York— or  not. 

While  I  was  panting  for  breath  on  the  sea-shore,  I  could 
tank  of  them,  with  home-sick  longing,  up  to  their  throats  in 
the  soft,  mushy  fluid  of  a  delicious  pncldle,  with  swarms  of  yel 
low  butterflies  rising,  floating,  and  settling  around  them  as  if 
a  bed  of  primroses  had  got  tired  of  growing  in  one  place,  and 
tad  urst  off  on  a  grand  spree  through  the  air,  settling  down 
tor  a  drink  now  and  then. 

Yes,  sisters,  I  was  brought,  in  the  hot  blast  of  those  summer 
days,  to  a  state  of  unchristian  envy,  and  would  have  been  glad 
to  swap  places  with  flounders,  or  have  slept  in  some  cellar, 
with  a  block  of  ice  for  a  pillow. 


One  Hour  of  Heaven.  393 

But  nothing  that  I  ever  saw  lasts  for  ever,  or  if  it  does  I 
haven't  lived  long  enough  to  prove  it.  Still,  one  gets  restless 
in  weather  like  this,  when  human  beings  are  dropping  down 
dead  in  the  streets  of  a  city  close  by  in  dozens,  from  sun 
strokes. 

This  morning  I  sat  in  my  room,  with  a  short  gown  and  not 
over  many  skirts  on,  looking  through  the  green  slats  of  my 
door,  and  watching  the  sunshine  shimmer  down  on  the  waves 
where  the  little  white  vessels  were  folding  their  sails,  and  go 
ing  to  sleep  like  birds  too  lazy  for  flying,  when  a  colored  per 
son  came  to  my  door,  and  says  he  : 

"  Mr.  Burke's  compliments,  and  will  Miss  Frost  take  a  walk 
with  him  on  the  beach  ?  " 
I  started  up,  and,  says  I: 

"  Won't  I !  "  Then  I  composed  myself,  and  sent  back  com 
pliments,  and  Miss  Frost  will  have  great  pleasure  in  comply 
ing  with  Mr.  Burke's  polite  invitation. 

When  the — colored  messenger  was  gone,  I  sat  down  in  the 
Boston  rocker,  clasped  my  hands,  and  drew  a  deep,  deep  sigh 
of  esctatic  expectation.  Then  I  remembered  that  lie  was  wait 
ing,  and  sprang  to  my  feet. 

With  my  two  shaking  hands  I  fastened  the  other  woman's 
hair  over  my  own,  that  would  neither  curl  nor  friz  worth  a 
cent  that  awful  hot  day.  Then  I  put  on  a  white  muslin  dress, 
that  looked  seraphically  innocent,  and  tightened  it  up  with  a 
plaid  silk  sash,  that  circled  my  slender  waist  and  floated  off 
like  a  rainbow  breaking  through  a  cloud. 

Then  I  took  my  parasol  in  one  hand,  held  my  flowing  skirts 
up  with  the  other,  and  went  forth  to  meet  my  destiny.  Oh,  how 
my  feet  longed  to  dance !  How  my  girlish  heart  beat  and  flut 
tered  in  this  innocent  bosom. 

He  was  waiting  for  me  in  the  long  stoop,  leaning  against  a 
post,  and  fanning  his  manly  head  with  the  broad  brim  of  his 
Panama  hat.  Oh,  how  majestic,  how — but  language  fails  me 
here. 

Arm  in  arm  we  walked  along  the  beach.     He  leaned  toward 


394  One  Hour  of  Heaven. 

me,  I  leaned  with  gentle  heaviness  on  him — delightful  reci 
procity — eloquent  silence.  A  soft  breeze  blew  up  from  the 
ocean,  and  kissed  us  both  with  refreshing  softness. 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  noble  man  by  my  side,  "  this  is  deli 
cious." 

"  Deliriously  so,"  I  murmured. 

"  You  feel  the  revivifying  effect  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Exquisitely,"  says  I,  leaning  a  little  more  confidingly  on 
his  stalwart  arm. 

He  bent  his  stately  head  and  looked  down  into  iny  eyes. 
Sisters,  the  thrill  of  that  glance  shook  my  delicate  frame  as 
bumble-bees  set  a  full-blown  rose  to  trembling  when  they 
swarm  in  its  heart. 

"  Shall  we  go  down  to  the  sands  ?  "  says  he  ;  "  the  incoming 
tide  is  dashing  them  with  coolness." 

I  understood  the  delicate  meaning  conveyed  in  these  words. 
Nothing  could  be  more  exquisitely  suggestive.  The  tide —  what 
was  that  but  his  own  noble  self  ?  The  sands — pure,  white,  un 
trodden — in  my  whole  life  I  never  heard  anything  more  typical. 

"If  you  desire  it,"  I  said. 

"  If  I  desire  it.     Ah  !  Miss  Frost,  it  is  for  you  to  say." 

My  heart  leaped  to  this  as  a  speckled  trout  snaps  at  a  fly. 
Nothing  so  near  a  proposal  had  ever  reached  me  before.  But 
a  New  England  woman  is  modest ;  she  does  not  snatch  at  the 
first  offer — far  from  it.  I  pretended  not  to  understand  the 
badly  hidden  meaning  of  his  metaphor.  A  little  art  of  this 
kind  is  feminine  and  excusable,  even  in  a  young  girl  dignified 
with  Society  membership  and  a  mission.  I  felt  that  he  could 
appreciate  it.  He  did.  Some  people  were  below  us  on  the" 
sands.  They  paused  to  look  up  as  this  noble  creature  handed 
me  down  those  wooden  steps.  The  effect  must  have  been  ar- 
tistical.  My  cloud-like  skirts  floated  softly  on  the  zephyrs. 
My  Scarf  streamed  out  like  a  banner.  I  am  afraid  the  curve 
of  my  boot  might  have  been  seen  from  below,  for  many  admir 
ing  faces  were  turned  that  way,  and  Mr.  Burke  cast  his  eye 
downward  in  a  fugitive  manner. 


One  Hour  of  Heaven.  395 

At  last  we  reached  the  sands,  on  which  both  the  sun  and 
waves  were  beating  luminously.      By  a  ridge  of  white  sand  he 


"  Shall  we  sit  here  ?  "  says  he,  with  tender  questioning. 

"  Anywhere,"  says  I,  with  sweet  feminine  complacency. 

Then  I  dropped  down  on  the  sand  ridge,  and  sweeping  my 
skirts  together,  cast  a  timid  glance  up  and  around. 

That  noble  man  was  spreading  a  silk  umbrella.  There  was 
a  hitch  in  the  spring,  and,  such  was  his  eager  impatience  to 
occupy  the  seat  I  had  so  delicately  suggested,  that  a  real 
naughty  word  broke  from  his  lips — a  word  I,  as  a  missionary, 
never  could  forgive,  if  it  hadn't  been  the  proof  of  such  lov 
ing  impatience.  As  it  was,  like  a  recording  angel,  I  blotted  it 
out  of  my  memory  with  a  forgiving  sigh. 

That  refractory  umbrella  was  hoisted  at  last,  and  its  owner 
placed  himself  on  the  sand  beside  me,  holding  it  not  seaward, 
but  like  a  tent,  shading  us  two  from  the  whole  world,  while 
the  sun  took  care  of  itself. 

l(  This,"  says  he,  "  is  a.sweet  relief.  Don't  you  find  it  so, 
Miss  Frost  ?  " 

I  answered  him  with  a  sigh,  soft,  but  audible. 

"  Yes,  one  can  draw  a  full  breath  here,"  says  he.  "  I  was 
sure  you  would  enjoy  it." 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  says  I,  playing  with  the  sand  in  the  inno 
cence  of  my  heart. 

Evidently  embarrassed  by  deep  feeling,  he  too  began  to  sift 
the  white  sand  through  his  fingers,  which  came  so  near  mine 
that  they  made  me  catch  my  breath  for  fear  he  might  clasp 
"them.  On  the  contrary,  he  gave  up  the  temptations  exercise, 
and  throwing  a  generous  restraint  on  himself,  began  to  talk 
metaphorically  and  metaphysically  about  many  things,  espec 
ially  about  gathering  maple-sap,  of  which  he  questioned  me 
tenderly,  veiling  the  hidden  meaning  in  his  heart,  by  a  seeming 
interest  in  our  trees. , 

He  asked  me,  with  infinite  meaning  in  his  voice,  at  what  pe 
riod  the  sparkling  sap  began  to  mount  up  from  the  curly  roots 


396  One  Hour  of  Heaven. 

of  our  maples,  and  vivify  the  trunk,  twigs,  and  branches  of  that 
noble,  tree. 

I  understood  his  meaning,  delicately  veiled  as  it  was.  He 
wished  to  reveal  his  contempt  of  young  saplings  compared  to 
the  vigorous  tree.  It  was  a  poetic  way  of  comparing  young 
snips  of  things  with  whole-souled  girls,  who  had  all  the  bloom 
of  youth,  and  all  the  strength  of  maturity. 

I  spoke  my  mind  on  the  subject.  I  said  that  strength, 
greenness,  a  full-grown  trunk  were  necessary  before  sweet 
wholesome  sap  could  circulate  from  root  to  top  of  a  sugar  ma 
ple.  That  saplings  amounted  to  just  nothing  at  all.  In  fact, 
they  kept  absorbing,  but  gave  forth  nothing ;  that  a  rich  matii- 
rity  was  desirable  before  the  maple  became  important  as  a  for 
est-tree  or  an  object  of  wealth. 

I  think  he  understood  me — or  rather  he  understood  that  I, 
with  the  exquisite  intuition  of  genius,  understood  him.  For 
right  off,  on  that,  he  said  that  he  would  like  to  live  in  Ver 
mont,  and  own  maple-trees  himself;  that  native  sugar  was  a 
sweet  business,  and  must  have  a  softening  tendency  upon  those 
who  entered  into  it. 

He  sometimes  bought  it  of  little  boys  in  the  cars,  and  always 
felt  a  soothing  influence  after  eating  it,  that  made  him  long  to 
drink  the  native  sap  fresh  from  tjie  tree.  In  fact,  he  took  a 
deep  interest  in  Vermont  and  all  its  institutions. 

While  we  were  talking  on  these  sweet  subjects,  quite  a  breeze 
sprang  up  from  the  water. 

Things  brighten  around  us.  The  sky  looked  blue.  The 
heaving  waves  of  the  ocean  began  to  swell  and  sparkle  as  if  a 
diamond  mine  were  breaking  up  in  their  depths.  I  am  satis 
fied  that  Long  Branch  is  all  that  it  has  been  cracked  up 
to  be — and  more  too,  when  kindred  souls  meet  on  its  sandy 
shores. 

"  How  bright !  how  beautiful !  "  says  he,  backing  off  suddenly 
from  the  maple  question,  which  had  covered  a  world  of  hidden 
meaning,  and  looking  out  to  sea,  with  a  delicate  wish,  no 
doubt,  to  spare  my  blushes. 


One  Hour  of  Heaven.  397 

"  Some  persons  have  been  kind  enough  to  think  so,"  says  I, 
"  but  it  isn't  for  me  to  say." 

"  I  love  the  fitfu!  changes— the  soft  transparency  :  nothing 
can  be  more  lovely,"  says  he. 

The  occasion  required  downcast  eyes  and  shrinking  silence. 
I  gave  him  both.  There  could  be  no  better  answer  for  a  speech 
so  personal  and  yet  so  poetic. 

"  I  hope  you  share  my  feelings  in  this." 

That  moment — that  precious,  precious  moment — was  broken 
in  upon  in  a  way  that  makes  me  clench  my  teeth  as  I  write. 
Up  the  sands,  racing  forward  like  a  young  colt,  came  "  that 
child,"  with  her  flat  flying  back  by  the  strings,  and  a  broken 
parasol  in  her  hand ;  up  she  flew  toward  Mr.  Burke. 

"  Come  here,"  says  she,  "  I.  want  you  to  whip  that  boy  out 
there  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  I  broke  my  parasol  over  his 
head,  but  it  wasn't  half  enough  ;  I  want  you  to  give  it  to  him 
good." 

"  But  what  has  he  done,"  says  Mr.  Burke,  no  doubt  riled  to 
the  depths  of  his  noble  heart,  as  I  was. 

"  Done  enough,  I  should  think.  He  mimicked  the  way  I 
carried  my  parasol,  and  said  some  folks  wanted  to  be  young  la 
dies  before  they  could  read — that's  what  he  has  done,"  says 
the  creature,  flaming  out  like  a  bantam. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  go  in,"  says  Mr.  Burke,  lifting  him 
self  out  of  the  sand. 

"  Npt  till  you've  given  him  hail  Columbia,"  says  the  creature, 
taking  a  new  grip  on  her  broken  parasol. 

"  I  rather  think  he  has  got  that,"  says  Mr.  Burke,  reach 
ing  out  his  hand  to  help  me  up. 

I  arose.  I  jerked  that  Leghorn  flat  by  the  strings,  and  tied  it 
under  the  creature's  chin  with  a  pull  that  made  her  scream. 
Then  I  took  Mr.  Burke's  arm  and  mounted  the  wooden  steps, 
with  a  feeling  at  my  heart  that  is  not  to  be  described  by  mortal 
pen.  What  a  world  of  bliss  that  wicked  little  wretch  broke  in 
upon.  His  soul  was  verging  towards  mine  so  beautifully.  The 
final  words  were  burning  on  his  lips  when  she  rushed  in.  Still, 


One  Hour  of  Heaven. 

memory   is   left,  reason  is   left.     I  know  what  was   in 

3  heart,  and  .that  knowledge  is  bliss. 
I  felt  this :  I  knew  his  meaning.     To  a  common  woman  he 

t  have  said,  "  I  love  you  dearly.     I  wish  above  a]1  ^ 
>  spend  my  life  with  you ;"  but  to  a  creature  made  up  of sensl 
e  pride  and  poetic  niceties,  unclothed  proposals  of  this  kind 
must  be  quite  out  of  place.     Of  course  I  understood  all  that, 

It  the  refinement  of  his  conduct  deeply. 

What  more  could  a  man  say  than  this  ?     In  order  to  be  deli 
cately  personal,  one  must  talk  by  comparisons.     To  praise  the 
*  one  is  born  in,  is  to  praise  one's  self.     To  seize  upon  any 
material  thing  for  a  poetical  comparison  with  a  human  being,  is 
be  intensely  complimentary  to  that  bein</ 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  fed  the  sweet  certainty  of  du- 
pUcation^  My  heart  swells  with  the  beautiful  faith  of  hope  de 
ferred.    Those  heavenly  lines  we  have  sung  so  often  together  in 
etiug-house  c6me  back  to  my  mind— 

"  To  patient  faith  the  prize  is  sure " 

I  dare  not  go  farther  and  complete  the  rhyme,  because  human 
sensation  should  not  encroach  on  the  divine;  but  the  spirit 

that  hymn  sings  in  my  heart ;  for  if  there  is  anything  on  this 

rth  that  woman  should  be  grateful  for,  it  is  love. 

Yes,  my  sisters,  at  last  I  feel  that  I  am  beloved  A  ray  of 
sympathetic  feeling  has  darted  from  a  grand  and  noble  soul  to 
mine,  changing  that  dull,  sandy  coast  to  Elysium. 

Last  night,  when  I  retired  to  the  secrecy,  of  my  chamber  it 
seemed  to  me  that  if  ever  a  woman's  heart-beg   pardon'  a 
young  girl's  heart-was  born  again,  mine  had  become  more  ten- 
irly  infantine  than  it  was  when  I  lay  one  week  old  in  my  love- 
ing  mother's  arms. 

The  moonlight  was  streaming  through  the  muslin  curtains  of 
my  room  when  I  entered  it.  It  was  an  ovation  of  silvery  li^ht 
dawnmgupon  thenew  life  that  opens  before  me.  I  do  not  know 
low  other  people  feel  when  the  crisis  of  fate  is  on  them  but  in 
my  heart  there  is  room  for  nothing  but  infinite  thankfulness 


C.    O.  D.  399 

Yes,  sisters,  I  think  you  can  conscientiously  congratulate  me. 
Yirtue  does  sometimes  meet  with  its  own  reward,  especially 
when  it  is  combined  with  youthfulness,  elegance,  and  high 
mental  attributes. 


XCYI. 

C.    O.   D. 

JE AB,  SISTERS : — The  cruelty  of  one  female  woman 
to  another  is  something  awful.  As  a  general  thing, 
E.  E.  Dempster  is  a  good-natured,  amiable  person,  but 
her  conduct  on  the  very  day  after  that  heavenly  season  on  the 
shore  was  worthy  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition.  She  has  lacer 
ated  the  heart  in  my  bosom,  and  torn  me  away  from  this  place 
like  a  ruthless  highwayman.  That  is  what  she  has  done. 

Early  in  the  morning,  while  I  was  dreaming  sweetly  of  the 
sea-shore,  that  unfeeling  female  rushed  into  my  room. 

"  Phcemie,"  says  she,  "  you  can't  sleep  any  longer.  We  are 
packing  up  for  the  city.  Cecilia  has  been  insulted  here,  and 
I  won't  stay  another  hour  in  the  place." 

"What !  what  is  it  ?  "  says  I.  "  How  could  you  !  He  was 
just  giving  up  metaphor  and  coming  squarely  out  in  the  sweet 
est  way." 

"  You  will  have  no  more  than  time  to  pack  your  trunk  before 
the  train  starts,"  says  she. 

"  Starts— what  for !  where  ?  " 

"  For  New  York,  and  after  that  to  Saratoga  ;  Cecilia  insists 
on  it,  poor,  sweet  darling." 

"For  New  York?"  says  I. 

"  On  the  way  to  Saratoga." 

"  But— but  who.  is  going.     Is— is —  ?. " 

"  Why,  you  and  I,  Dempster,  and  that  sweet,  ill-used  child. 
Would  you  believe  it,  that  rude  boy's  father  refuses  to  whip 


400  C.    O.  D. 

him,  and  said,  a  girl  that  could  give  a  black  eye  with  her  parasol 
was — well,  I  can't  find  the  heart  to  repeat  it.  At  any  rate,  she 
doesn't  stay  another  hour  under  the  same  roof  with  that  little 
fiend." 

"  But  is  that  all — Oh,  tell  me  is  no  one  else  going?  "  says  I 
feeling  as  if  a  ton  of  lead  had  been  heaped  on  me. 

"  Dear  me.  There  is  no  one  else  to  care  for  the  poor  child. 
Of  course,  no  one  will  take  it  up  but  us.  So  make  haste." 

Out  she  went,  leaving  me  just  heart-broken  and  ready  to  give 
up.  How  could  I  go  ?  how  could  I  leave  him  and  "  the  Branch," 
as  if  my  soul  were  fleeing  from  his  ? 

It  was  of  no  use.  E.  E.  was  set  upon  going,  and  I  couldn't 
help  myself. 

Well,  sisters,  two  hours  after  I  left  that  bed  we  had  packed 
lip  bag  and  baggage,  given  a  cart-load  of  trunks  for  the  express 
men  to  smash  or  carry,  just  as  they  liked,  and  then  took  a  little 
run  of  railroad,  and  a  sail  in  a  steamboat  so  grand  and  airy,  and 
no  ending,  that  we  began  to  feel  sorry  that  James  Fisk  was  dead, 
or  that  his  splendid  ghost  didn't  roam  along  the  steamboat  track 
and  keep  things  ship-shape,  as  he  left  them. 

Well,  in  that  steamboat  we  reached  New  York,  warm,  rest 
less,  and  nigh  about  ready  to  give  out,  or  take  a  friendly  sun 
stroke  and  be  peaceably  carried  away  to  a  cool  vault  in  some 
shady  graveyard. 

I  mentioned  this  alternative  to  Cousin  Dempster,  but  he 
shook  his  head  and  answered  that  some  of  us  might  find  our 
selves  waking  up  in  a  more  uncomfortable  place  than  the  streets 
of  New  York  ;  which  I  thought  impossible,  but  said  nothing. 

Well,  we  had  a  few  hours  to  stay  in  the  city  before  a  boat 
would  be  ready  to  take  us  to  Saratoga  Springs — a  name  that 
sounded  so  cool  and  refreshing,  that  I  longed  to  get  there  and 
breathe  again. 

Cousin  E.  E.  said,  when  we  went  ashore  : 

"  Phcemie,"  says  she,  "there  are  a  few  hours  before  us;  sup 
pose  we  go  a-shopping  ?  I  want  ever  so  many  things.  Sara 
toga  is  a  dressy  place,  and  I  haven't  a  thing  to  wear." 


C.   0.  D.  401 

Then,  before  I  could  object,  says  she  to  Dempstfer : 

"  A  check,  my  dear,  or  if  you  have  the  funds  on  hand." 

Dempster  gave  a  sigh  that  shook  his  manly  bosom  through 
and  through,  and  says  he  : 

"  There,"  drawing  a  roll  of  bank  bills  from  his  vest  pocket, 
"  will  that  do  ?  " 

E.  E.  unrolled  the  bills  and  sorted  them  out. 

"  Ten,  twenty,  fifty,  ten,  ten,  ten,  fif—  Why,  Dempster, 
what  do  you  mean  ?  How  far  will  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
go  ?  I  want  to  spend  more  than  that  on  Valenciennes  lace  for 
Cecilia's  dress.  The  child  must  have  something  to  wear." 

She  spoke  in  a  grieved,  half-angry  way,  that  touched  Demp 
ster  to  the  heart.  He  took  out  his  pocket-book,  but  not 
another  sign  of  money  was  in  it.  Then  he  felt  in  three  or  four 
pockets  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  tormented  with  doubts 
of  finding  anything.  At  last  he  stopped  looking. 

l(  I  haven't  another  red  cent  about  me,  dear.  Indeed  I 
haven't." 

"  Dear  me,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  There  is  a  guipure  sacque  at 
Stewart's  that  I  must  have." 

"  Couldn't  you  get  along  without  it  ?  "  says  Dempster,  with 
such  pathetic  earnestness  that  I  really  felt  sorry  for  him. 

(i  Get  along  without  it !     How  can  you  ask  ?  " 

"  That  Brussels  lace  thing,"  faltered  Dempster. 

"  What,  that?  I  have  had  it  six  months  at  least;  besides, 
I  saw  another  just  like  it  at  the  hotel,  and  that  is  enough  to 
disgust  one  with  anything.  If  people  will  pattern  after  me,  I 
can't  help  it.  Then  again  one  gets  so  tired  of  .the  same 
thing." 

"  But  I  have  no  more  money." 

<c  Can't  you  draw  a  check  ?  " 

"  My  check-book  is  at  the  office." 

"  Always  so  when  I  want  anything.  Now,  Dempster,  this 
is  too  bad." 

"  Well,"  says  Dempster,  desperately,  "  get  the  thing,  and 
tell  Stewart  to  charge  it  ?  " 


402  C.    O.  D. 

Cousin  E.  E.  turned  her  face  away.  It  was  awful  cloudy, 
and  I  could  see  that  she  was  biting  her  lips.  She  had  an 
awful  long  bill  at  Stewart's  already.  Then  her  face  lighted  up. 

"  Can't  I  have  them  sent  C.  O.  D.,  by  express?  You  will 
have  time  to  get  plenty  of  money  before  then,"  says  she,  as 
soft  as  silk  weed. 

(<  I  hate  the  system,"  says  Dempster ;  "  money  in  hand  is  the 
only  way  a  lady  should  make  purchases.  Then  she  knows 
what  she  is  about.  Everything  else  leads  to  extravagance.  I 
hate  bills  as  if  they  were  copperheads ;  they  are  things  I  never 
will  forgive." 

I  saw  that  E.  E.  turned  pale,  and  a  red  flush  came  around 
her  eyes  as  if  she  were  just  ready  to  burst  out  a-crying. 

Dempster  thought  it  was  because  he  had  stood  out  about  the 
money  and  gave  in  a  trifle. 

"  For  this  once, "  says  he,  "  have  the  things  charged,  but 
bring  the  bill  with  you.  I  must  know  what  I  am  about  in 
these  matters." 

"  But  I  mightn't  find  them  all  in  one  place.  Hadn't  we 
better  make  it  a  C.  O.  D.,  just  for  once  ?  "  says  she,  pleading 
for  her  own  way  as  if  her  mouth  were  full  of  humble  pie. 

"  Do  as  you  please  for  this  once,"  says  he,  half  out  of  pa 
tience,  "  but  remember,  I  am  set  against  bills  and  running  ac 
counts — pay  as  you  go  along,  is  my  motto." 

E.  E.  drew  a  deep  breath,  and,  putting  the  money  in  a  little 
mite  of  a  leather  satchel  fastened  to  her  side  by  a  belt,  took  up 
her  parasol  and  prepared  to  march  off. 

Cecilia  followed  after,  surveying  her  little  toadstool  of  a  par 
asol,  and  stooping  forward  as  she  walked,  like  an  undersized 
kangaroo. 

I  only  wish  E.  E.,  or  even  Cousin  Dempster,  could  see  that 
child  as  I  see  her.  But  they  can't.  Where  she  is  concerned, 
they  seem  born  fools,  both  of  them. 

Well,  off  we  went  one  way,  and  Dempster  the  other — he  to 
get  the  money,  and  his  wife  to  spend  it.  I  looked  on,  and 
wondered  how  any  man  living  could  afford  to  get  married.  The 


C.   0.  D.  403 

whole  thing  made  me  down-hearted,  and  half-ashamed  of  my 
relationship  with  a  woman  who  could  worry  money  out  of  her 
husband  like  that,  and  not  feel  how  mean  she  was— could  not 
my  cousin  see  that  she  was  poisoning  the  soul  of  her  own  child 
by  an  example  which  she  was  just  as  certain  to  follow  as  she 
was  to  live. 

Well,  we  got  into  a  carriage  and  drove  up  Broadway ;  but 
instead  of  going  to  Stewart's  great  marble  building,  E.  E. 
stopped  at  some  other  places,  and  kept  buying  and  buying  till 
I  got  tired  out,  and  sat  on  a  round  stool  by  the  counter,  say 
ing  nothing,  but  thinking  a  good  deal.  Each  place  we  left,  I 
heard  her  say,  "  Grand  Union  Hotel,  Saratoga :  C.  O.  D.,"  till 
I  got  tired  to  death  of  the  word. 

At  one  place  my  cousin  and  that  child  had  a  grand  set-to  in 
the  store.  Cecilia  wanted  a  bright-red  silk  dress  to  wear  under 
her  lace  one  ;  but  E.  E.  liked  blue  best,  and  ordered  it.  Then 
Cecilia  declared  she  didn't  want  any  dress  at  all,  broke  her 
new  parasol  striking  it  against  the  counter,  and  ended  off  by 
flinging  herself  down  on  a  stool  and  drumming  her  feet  against 
the  counter— so  mad  that  she  cried  till  everybody  in  the  store 
heard  her. 

Of  course  E.  E.  gave  in,  just  to  pacify  her,  while  I  would 
have  given  fifty  of  the  brightest  silver  dollars  ever  issued  by 
the  TJ.  S.  Government,  for  the  happiness  of  giving  her  the  neat 
est  little  trouncing  she  ever  got  in  her  life.  But  luxuries  like 
these,  I  can  hardly  expect  just  yet.  How  that  cousin  of  mine 
can  give  up  a  parental  prerogative  so  tempting  to  the  hands  I 
cannot  imagine.  I  really  would  not  put  so  much  pleasure  off 
an  hour. 


404  Taken  In. 

XCYII. 

TAKEN    IN. 

|  ELL,  after  trapesing  about  from  one  store  to  another 
till  I  was  nigh  about  tired  to  death,  E.  E.  concluded 
that  she  had  got  through  her  shopping,  except  a  few 
things  that  we  could  carry  in  our  pockets,  which  kept  us  rush 
ing  in  and  out  of  every  little  shop  we  came  to  for  an  hour 
longer.  Then  she  said  we  would  stop  into  Purssell's  and  get 
something  to  eat,  for  she  was  beginning  to  feel  hungry.  This 
had  been  the  case  with  me  ever  so  long ;  not  that  I  hankered 
much  in  hot  weather  for  hearty  food,  but  I  felt  a  sort  of  faint- 
ness  ;  and  when  she  said  something  about  Purssell's  having  de 
licious  peaches,  I  knew  that  they  were  exactly  the  thing  which 
would  appease  all  the  internal  longing  of  my  nature. 

But  just  as  my  mouth  was  beginning  to  water,  E.  E.  took  out 
her  watch  and  gave  a  little  scream. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  who  would  a- thought  it  ?  We  have  but 
just  fifteen  minutes  to  reach  the  boat  in?  " 

My  heart  sank.  The  taste  of  those  peaches  had  almost  got 
into  my  mouth,  but  now  a  taste  of  dust  came  in  their  place.  I 
could  just  have  sat  down  and  cried. 

"  Never  mind,"  says  E.  E. ;   "  we  can  get  dinner  on  board." 

"  Dinner  on  board  !  "  Thin  soup ;  hot  meat  down  in  the 
bottom  of  a  steamboat,  with  a  smell  of  oil,  sour  water,  and 
musty  linen  all  around  you — that  is  what  "  a  dinner  on  board  " 
means,  and  nothing  else.  The  very  thought  made  me  feel  rily 
about  the  temper — all  that  I  wanted  was,  some  peaches. 

You  will  not  wonder,  sisters,  that  I  hankered  after  this  de 
licious  fruit,  which  is  about  the  only  good  thing  that  grows 
which  we  do  not  have  in  the  old  Vermont  State.  Only  think  of 
them — round,  plump,  juicy;  with  the  redness  of  a  warm  sunset 
burning  on  one  side,  and  pale-gold  glowing  on  the  other ;  cool, 
delicious,  melting  away  in  the  mouth  with  a  flavor  that  just 


Taken  In.  405 

makes  you  want  to  kiss  some  smiling  baby  while  it  is  on  your 
lips  !  Think  of  them !  then  imagine  my  feelings  when  I  was 
hurried  into  a  hack,  and  rattled  off  to  the  steamboat  with 
the  promise  of  a  hot  dinner  in  its  internal  regions.  We  saw 
peaches  on  every  hand  as  we  drove  along — in  stores,  on  street 
tables,  in  baskets  carried  by  Irish  women,  who  looked  up  at  the 
carriage-window  pleadingly  as  we  drove  along. 

"  Wait  one  minute,"  says  I,  as  a  woman  came  up  with  her 
long  basket  brimming  over  with  the  luscious  fruit ;  "I  must 
have  some  peaches." 

"  Not  a  second,"  says  E.  E. ;  "  don't  you  see  Dempster  beck 
oning  from  the  deck  ?  The  last  bell  is  ringing.  Come,  come !  " 

The  Irish  woman  lifted  up  her  basket,  and  stood  there  entic 
ing  me.  E.  E.  rushed  up  the  plank,  calling  out :  "  Make  haste, 
make  haste  !  " 

Cecilia  sung  out :  "  Come  along,  Phcemie  !  " 

Two  men  had  hold  of  the  plank  bridge.  I  had  to  cross  then, 
or  be  left  behind.  I  cast  one  yearning  look  towards  the  basket, 
rushed  up  the  plank,  and  stood  panting,  by  the  side  of  Demp 
ster. 

"  Oh  dear,  it  is  too  bad !  "  says  I. 

"  What  is  it,  Phcemie?  "  says  Dempster. 

"  Peaches  !  "  says  I.  "  Those  delicious  peaches — see  how 
they  glow  in  the  sunshine !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  There  is  plenty  on  board,"  says  he ;  "I'll 
go  and  get  some." 

"Not  yet,"  says  E.  E.  ;  "  the  deck  is  so  crowded." 

Dempster  got  seats  for  us  and  a  stool  for  himself.  The 
crowd  was  packed  so  close  that  one  could  hardly  breathe.  I 
was  thirsty,  I  was  tired  out,  and  just  ready  to  cry.  E.  E.  was 
tired  also,  and  a  little  cross.  Cecilia  was  just  as  she  always  is 
— a  nuisance.  I  felt  like  thanking  Dempster  when  he  jumped 
up,  and  says  he  : 

"  Now  for  the  peaches  !  " 

Away  he  went,  just  as  good-natured  as  could  be,  calling  back 
for  me  to  keep  his  seat  for  him.  I  laid  my  parasol  on  it,  and 


406  Taken  In. 

kept  my  hand  on  that ;  but  a  minute  after  came  a  great  heathen 
of  a  fellow  and  attempted  to  take  the  stool. 

"  It  is  engaged,"  says  I,  pressing  down  my  hand. 

"What  of  that?"  says  he,  jerking  the  stool  away,  and 
throwing  my  parasol  on  to  the  floor.  "  Every  one  for  himself, 
and  no  favors." 

I  was  blue  as  indigo  before  that.  At  another  time  this 
creature  would  have  .riled  me  into  a  tempest,  but  now  I  felt 
more  like  crying.  But  there  he  sat,  plump  on  the  stool,  look 
ing  as  self-contented  as  if  butter  would  not  melt  in  his  mouth. 

Dempster  came  back.  I  looked  up  longingly.  His  hands 
were  empty. 

11 1  am  very  sorry,"  says  he,  "  but  there  isn't  a  peach  on 
board." 

Well,  there  I  sat,  with  the  sun  pouring  down  on  me,  while 
E.  E.  read  the  illustrated  papers,  and  that  child  made  herself 
generally  numerous  among  the  passengers.  After  awhile  I  got 
up  to  look  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  when  that  horrid  wretch 
snatched  up  my  seat  and  carried  it  off,  looking  back  at  me  and 
laughing. 

I  said  nothing — what  was  the  use  ? — but  leaned  against  the 
cabin-door,  holding  my  satchel,  the  most  forlorn  creature  you 
ever  saw.  Just  then  some  one  spoke  to  me.  I  looked  round. 
It  was  a  roly-poly,  oldish  woman,  who  spread  considerably  over 
her  chair,  and  held  a  travelling-basket  on  her  lap.  She  had 
found  an  empty  stool,  and  asked  me  to  take  it. 

I  sat  down  while  she  smiled  blandly  upon  me. 

"  Never  mind  that  fellow,"  says  she.  "  Some  men  are  born 
animals  of  one  kind  or  another,  so  let  them  go." 

Her  words  were  kind — her  manner  motherly.  I  liked  the 
woman.  She  is  not  elegant,  I  thought,  but  who  could  be  with 
all  that  breadth  of  chest  and  brevity  of  limb?  I  smiled  and 
thanked  her,  wondering  who  she  was. 

"  Pretty  scenery,"  says  she,  pointing  to  the  bank  on  which 
some  cottage-houses,  and  a  wooden  tavern  with  red  maroon 
half-curtains  at  the  window,  seemed  to  set  the  whole  neighbor- 


Taken  In.  4°7 

hood  on  fire.  l(  ISTow  I  would  give  anything  for  a  house  like 
that.  Snug,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  might  have  been  looking  at  the  wooden  tavern,  or  at  a 
cottage  close  by  with  a  beautiful  drapery  of  vines  running 
along  the  porch.  "  Of  course,"  thought  I,  "  she  means  that." 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  it  looks  delightfully  quiet." 

She  nodded,  and  opened  her  basket,  a  capacious  affair,  quite 
large  enough  to  hold  half  a  peck  of  peaches.  My  mouth  be 
gan  to  water.  Perhaps — 

"  Take  one,"  says  she,  handing  over  a  cracker. 

I  took  the  disappointment,  and  tried  to  eat,  but  with  that 
hankering  after  peaches  in  my  throat  it  seemed  like  refreshing 
one's  self  on  sawdust.  She  noticed  this,  I  think,  and,  with  a 
little  hesitation,  looked  into  her  basket  again,  then  closed  it, 
and,  looking  towards  me,  whispered — 

"  That's  dry  eating.  Come  down  to  the  cabin,  and  I'll  give 
you  something  nice." 

"  Something  nice  !  "  I  felt  my  eyes  brighten.  "  Some 
thing  nice — peaches,  of  course.  What  else  could  she  have 
but  peaches  ? "  I  thanked  her  with  enthusiasm ;  my  eyes 
gloated  on  her  basket.  Peaches  and  plenty  of  them — delic 
ious  ! 

The  stranger  arose,  smoothed  down  her  dress,  and  led  the  way 
downstairs.  Her  presence  was  imposing,  her  step  firm  as  a 
rock.  Assuredly  my  new  acquaintance  was  no  common  person 
— a  little  stout,  certainly,  but  so  is  the  Queen  of  England. 

I  followed  her  eagerly,  thinking  of  the  peaches,  longing  for 
them  with  inexpressible  longing.  We  went  through  the  cabin 
— on  and  on — back  of  some  curtains  that  draped  it  at  one  end. 
Here  she  paused,  set  her  basket  on  a  marble  table,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  open  it. 

I  did  not  wish  to  show  the  craving  eagerness  which  pos 
sessed  me,  and  delicately  turned  my  eyes  away.  Then  she  spoke 
in  a  deep  mellow  voice,  as  though  she  had  fed  on  peaches  from 
the  cradle  up. 

"  Look  a-here,"  says  she.     "  Isn't  this  something  nice  ?  " 


408  Taken  In. 

I  looked  !  the  basket  was  open.  She  held  a  tumbler  in  one 
hand  and  a  bottle  in  the  other,  from  which  a  stream  of  brandy 
gurgled.  That  rotund  impostor  came  toward  me,  beaming. 

"  There,"  says  she,  "  take  right  hold.  It's  first-rate  Cog 
nac." 

All  the  Vermont  blood  in  my  veins  riled  suddenly.  I  drew 
myself  up  to  the  full  queenly  height  that  so  many  people  have 
thought  imposing.  Disappointment  sharpened  virtue's  indigna 
tion. 

"  Madam,"  says  I,  tl  you  have  practised  a  hospitable  fraud — 
in  Christian  charity  I  will  call  it  hospitable — on  a  New  Eng 
land  lady,  who  looks  upon  temperance  as  a  cardinal  virtue. 
Put  up  your  bottle.  Maple  sap  and  sweet  cider  from  straws 
are  the  strongest  drinks  I  ever  indulge  in." 

"  Maple  sap,"  says  she,  with  a  rumbling,  mellow  laugh, 
which  ended  in  a  cough  as  the  brandy  went  down  her  throat. 
"  Sweet  cider,  through  straws !  Well,  every  one  to  her  taste." 

Here  she  filled  the  glass  again  and  held  it  out,  smiling  like 
a  harvest  moon. 

"  What,  you  won't  take  the  least  nip,  j  ust  to  save  it,  you 
know  ?  " 

I  turned  my  back  upon  that  rotund  tempter,  and  walked 
with  a  stately  step  to  the  deck,  followed  by  a  rich  gurgle  from 
the  second  glass  as  it  went  down  that  perfidious  creature's 
throat. 

"  Goodness  gracious  !     What  a  surprise !  " 

This  was  my  exclamation  when  I  saw  Mr.  Burke  coming  to 
wards  me,  across  the  deck,  with  a  small  basketful  pf  the  most 
delicious  peaches  in  his  hand. 

There  he  came,  smiling  so  blandly,  and  held  out  the  basket 
for  me  to  help  myself.  He  was  going  to  Saratoga,  he  said. 
The  hot  season  had  driven  him  to  seek  mountainous  air.  O 
sisters ! 


step 

Tnemie 
experiences 


M17495O 


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